Unbroken
by hidingfromsomeone
Summary: Ten years of loving you was almost enough. Arm's distance was nearly too close. Then I fell. Please… make me unbroken. HP/CW NC-17
1. one

_This is, without a doubt, one of the strangest things I have ever written. It's deeply sad, tragic, and angsty, very nonlinear, and I offer no guarantees of a happy ending. Saying that, it's unfinished.  
><em>_I've been working on the story on and off for a few months; if you're someone who has read anything I've written before then you will (hopefully) find it different to my other work. The chapters will be deliberately short and I've got no posting schedule in mind. And no beta. And no pre-reader.  
><em>_Fred!Lives, because DHpt2 nearly broke my heart. It's HP/CW and canonish… You can safely assume that other than Fred, and Harry's entire relationship with Ginny, everything else happened as per canon. I hate over- explaining my plots (you're all intelligent readers) so I'll leave it there.  
><em>_This is, I think it's fair to say, a rather experimental thing for me so I appreciate your patience and, more than anything else, your feedback.  
><em>_- HFS xx_

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><p><span>Unbroken <span>

_Death is at your doorstep  
><em>_And it will steal your innocence  
><em>_But it will not steal your substance.  
><em>_- Mumford & Sons, 'Timshel'_

He woke in a bed that had a lump right where his left shoulder blade dug into the not- softness of the mattress. A twisting, tightening nausea gripped his stomach and although the overwhelming urge was to be passionately, violently sick, he held that urge in check. More than anything else, he hated being sick.

The lump in the mattress caused him to squirm for comfort, which caused the sickness in his belly to pitch and tilt until he could almost feel the acid burn at the back of his throat, and a small whimper escaped from his throat.

"He's awake," a soft, female voice hissed and although his eyes were closed, Harry was aware that this room was filled with people.

"Glasses," he murmured and a dry palm pressed the square rimmed frames into his hand. On squeezing it in thanks, he decided that it was Ron's. "What the hell happened?"

The room swam into view and then Harry really did throw up; heaving, gut wrenching pulls that expelled the contents of his stomach over the white tile. Ron vanished it immediately. Hermione dealt with the smell.

"We'll get the Healer in, now you're awake," she said, reaching over with a cool, damp flannel which she held to his forehead. When the door clicked Harry realised that there must have been someone else in the room with them as well.

"I don't want to hear it from a Healer," he protested. "Please. You're my best friend."

It didn't matter whether he was directing this comment to Ron or Hermione – it applied to them both.

Ron looked away as Hermione sat down on the bed next to him, pulling one of Harry's hands into both of hers. Ron's Auror's robes were stained with blood, and, as he noticed Harry noticing this, he hastily pulled them off.

"You were hit with a very dangerous hex," Hermione said softly. "It has…" she broke off and looked to Ron.

"We don't know how much use of your legs you've got left," Ron finished for her in a gruff voice.

"Oh," Harry said softly.

Before his tired mind had time to fully understand the implications of this the door to his room was flung open again and a team of nurses and a Healer bustled in.

The prognosis was grim.

The force of the curse had knocked Harry unconscious, and although they had rushed him through the medical team and straight to St Mungo's, the lack of an immediate counter- curse being performed had inhibited what the Healers had been able to do.

Harry had been unconscious for nearly six hours.

As he was told that the best thing for him now would be to recover in his own time, and that with regular check ups they could possibly improve his condition but really, there was no way to tell what the lasting effects would be.

There was nothing left in his stomach, but Harry felt sick again.

While the news was being delivered Molly stood in the background, wringing a wrecked handkerchief between her fingers as Charlie stood behind her; he kept a solid, comforting hand on her shoulder. Looking behind her, ignoring everything else and their false words of encouragement, Charlie's eyes told him all he needed to know. His life, his career, his everything… it was over.

xXx

"Sweetheart, _please,_" Molly begged. The others had disappeared with mumbled words regarding coffee. Harry had told them that his wand arm worked just fine and if they didn't come back with one for him he'd hex them into oblivion. Molly had taken the opportunity to start another tirade begging him to go home with her to live at The Burrow.

"Molly, I love you, but no."

"You can't go back to your flat, you know that. And Hermione doesn't have time…"

"Neither do you!" he protested. "You've got enough on your hands dealing with all the kids. I'll sort something out."

"You're not going into one of those care homes, you're just not," she continued. "I'm not having anyone say I don't take care of mine."

Harry laid a hand over hers and ignored the shooting pains going up and down his legs. After his third day in hospital he'd become used to them. Molly could insist all she liked. She had eleven grandchildren and looked after the ones who weren't at school yet during the day while her children were at work. Harry knew from his own babysitting experience that Weasley children were a handful. The last thing she needed was a disabled sort-of-son to look after as well.

"He's not going to a group care home," came Charlie's voice from the doorway. "He's coming with me."

They hadn't discussed it, there hadn't been time, too many other people in the room all the damn time. But he'd hoped. Oh god, how he'd hoped.

Catching Charlie's eye, he nodded. Molly looked from Charlie to Harry and back again and sighed deeply, standing and leaving them alone for the first time.

"Is that okay?" Charlie asked nervously.

"It's perfect."


	2. two

_A/N: I am, without a doubt, stunned and humbled at the response this story has had so far. Thank you so much to everyone who has given it a chance! I also really quickly want to say thank you to greeneyedgirly who just... ugh... owns my heart right now, also mauralee88, VAVikingGirl, CarminMoon and Britt01 who have all followed my work for literally years. These girls are all sorts of awesome. I know this chapter is short, so I'm out. Will post more soon._

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><p><em>April 1996<em>

"_You should be more careful," Hermione admonished as Harry watched with precise detail how much honey Malfoy was pouring on his porridge. "People are starting to notice you staring at him. And they're coming to the wrong conclusion."_

"_Really? What conclusion is that?" Harry said, mindlessly shovelling cornflakes into his mouth, his eyes focused on a blond head across the Great Hall._

"_That… you fancy him," Hermione hissed._

_Both Harry and Ron started to choke on their breakfast at the same time. _

"_People think Harry's gay?" Ron said incredulously. _

"_Well, yes," Hermione said. "And no one can blame them with the way you keep staring!"_

"_I don't fancy Malfoy," Harry said emphatically. _

_His best friends seemed to accept this confession. He did, however, know that the time to tell them was fast approaching. He didn't want to keep secrets from them but the correct timing for this particular subject was going to be crucial. _

_The common room was nearly deserted, only a few fifth years remaining when Harry pulled his friends down to sit with him in front of the fire, looking into the flames where Sirius had once appeared. _

"_I need to tell you something," Harry said, studying the fire and ignoring their eyes._

"_Oh no," Ron muttered, then "Ouch!" as Hermione elbowed him in the ribs. _

"_See… the thing is… I like boys."_

"_Oh," Hermione squeaked._

"_Bloody hell, mate. Wait."_

"_What?"_

"_Does that mean… you really do fancy Malfoy?"_

_Harry snorted, then choked. "No. No, Ron, I really, really don't."_

"_Oh. Good. Because, you know you're my best mate and everything, but I'd probably have to hit you if you did."_

"_Ronald!"_

"_Oh, give it up. He knows I'm only joking."_

_Harry chanced a look at his best friends. They were both smiling._

"_So, you're okay with this?"_

"_Of course we are," Hermione said. _

"_Is there anyone that you like? 'Cos I reckon, since it's you, you'd have a chance…"_

_Harry tried his hardest to fight the blush staining his cheeks, and failed. "No one at school. No."_

"_Out of school?" Hermione teased with a sparkle in her eyes._

"_I'm not telling you."_

"_Aww!" she cried. "Oh, please tell me?"_

"_No," Harry said, standing now. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight."_

"_Night," Hermione called._

_His heart was still racing as he changed into his pyjamas and slid beneath the sheets, pulling the curtains around his bed closed. It could have been worse, he decided. It could have been a lot worse._


	3. three

_A/N: I'm having 'one of those days'. Actually just banged my head against my laptop and yelled "I can't do it!"  
>I know they're short chapters. Forgive me. Does updating regularly make up for it?<em>

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><p>It took two more weeks to get Harry to a point where his strength – particularly his upper- body strength was at a point where he could support himself. He was itching to get out of the hospital but being Harry Potter, the Healers were dragging his stay out as long as possible, lest they release him too early and he injure himself further.<p>

Finally, a Portkey was arranged to Charlie's home in Romania.

Hermione had spent a few hours sat cross legged on his bed, quill and parchment balanced on her knee and her daughter on the other as she scrawled out a list of all the things Harry wanted to be packed up from his flat. She had a key to his place, of course. They only lived round the corner from each other.

It had been his and Ron's flat, at first, when they were going through the first few years of their Auror training but Harry had moved out before he turned into the third wheel in the relationship between his two best friends. He insisted that he be the one to move; close enough that he could stop by whenever he wanted, and far enough away to not be a nuisance.

It had turned out to be a good move. Less than six months later, Ron and Hermione were engaged and a year later they were married. Within the following year she was pregnant, too. They stayed in the flat when Hugo was born because it was just convenient. They had all made their lives in London; Hermione didn't want to commute from the suburbs when she worked in the city, she wanted to be close to her children.

The real heartbreak now was that he _loved_ his flat. It wasn't his first home, but it was the one place he was able to call his and no one else's. It was a sanctuary; a little, cream walled, wooden floored, leather sofa heaven. Charlie's place was familiar to him too, of course, but it wasn't the same as his own home. The thought of not going back there again made him feel sick, although feeling sick was so normal these days he wasn't really concerned.

"Are you ready?" Charlie asked.

Harry nodded. "As I'll ever be."

xXx

He'd said goodbye to his friends, and the few colleagues and well wishers who'd heard about his accident long before the Portkey was due to leave. One by one they left, leaving Harry and Charlie alone in the too- warm hospital room. Too mentally tired to talk, he'd done enough talking to make him silent for a week, Harry dropped his head to Charlie's shoulder and waited for the small silver disk from the Portkey office to take them out to Romania.

All his things were shrunken down into a backpack which Charlie had slung over his shoulder, along with another sack full of food from Molly. She hadn't asked how Charlie had learned of the accident so quickly. Or why he'd been given three weeks off work with no questions asked by his employers. Harry was still fearful that she'd put two and two together and come up with the right answer.

When the disk between them glowed Harry's grip tightened and the unpleasant pull from behind is navel told him that they were moving. He kept his eyes closed.

They landed on Charlie's doorstep; Charlie finding his feet quickly and scooping Harry under his shoulders to prevent him from falling.

"Going to carry me across the threshold?" Harry joked, although there was pain behind the words.

Charlie smiled as he unlocked the door and helped Harry into the living room where he collapsed into the worn, familiar sofa.

"Do you want a cup of tea or anything?"

"If you can lace it with something stronger, yeah."

"I can do that," Charlie agreed and disappeared through to the kitchen.

Harry relaxed back into the soft cushions with his eyes closed again, counting his breaths, his heartbeats. He appreciated the still silence of the early evening here, the two hours time difference meaning dusk was already falling. Harry almost yelped as something leapt up into his lap and jumped through the roof as a fluffy someone settled on his jeans.

"You found the cat, then," Charlie said, passing him a mug that smelled of tea and whiskey.

"Yeah. You didn't have him the last time I was here." Harry stroked the purring grey tabby as he took the first, searing hot mouthful of tea.

"No, he's new." Charlie sat down next to Harry and pulled his feet on to his lap; an old gesture that held so much more meaning, now. Gently, carefully, he removed Harry's boots, working laces and clips and letting each one fall to the floor with a heavy _thunk_.

"What's his name?"

Charlie huffed with laughter. "Puff."

"Like… the magic dragon?" Harry's eyes lit up with laughter that Charlie feared he had lost.

"Yeah. There are a couple of Muggle born people working here, and they sing it to the kids. Damn song got stuck in my head for weeks. Then he turned up on my doorstep and refused to leave."

"Who's been feeding him?"

"Ah, I've had Sally coming in to keep an eye on the place for me."

Harry had met Charlie's assistant a few times and was always left stunned by the veritable whirlwind of a woman; her husband was another one of the dragon keepers and she too lived on the reserve with their three children. The community here knew of their friendship and it wasn't unusual for Harry to head down to one of the common room cabins if he was there for the weekend. It meant they weren't hiding, but it was common knowledge that Charlie's house had only one bedroom.

Very carefully, Charlie removed Harry's socks and started to rub his feet. Although he squirmed and gulped down more of the whiskey laced tea to hide his grimace of pain, Harry didn't pull away.

The Healer had explained that with regular rehabilitation, there was a chance that the strength in Harry's legs could return. He was only twenty eight, after all. Young enough, they hoped, to make a full recovery, although no one would make any guarantees. The opinion around the hospital was that if anyone could do it, Harry Potter could do it. It wasn't an accolade that filled Harry with hope.

"How does it feel?" Charlie asked as he dug his thumbs into the arch of Harry's foot, trying to stimulate the nerve endings there.

"It feels," Harry started, then faltered. "You know when you get handed something heavy, your wrist compensates for the extra weight so you don't drop it. All of the joints in your hand tense up. It feels like… none of my joints below my waist will compensate for the weight of my body. So I can't stand up."

"That sounds just like a Jelly Legs jinx."

"Yeah. Except a Jelly Legs jinx is only supposed to last a few seconds." Charlie started working on Harry's other foot, and the room was silent as the darkness grew around them. "It's so peaceful here," Harry said eventually.

"Mmm," Charlie hummed in agreement. "Are you warm enough?"

Harry nodded and resumed stroking the cat. "It's nice. I was hot in the hospital all the time. When do you have to go back to work?"

"I can stay home as long as you need me to."

"Don't. It makes me feel like an invalid."

"I can do half days, to start with?"

Harry nodded. "Okay." He yawned widely.

"Come on," Charlie said, standing and picking up both Harry and the cat. The latter screeched and jumped down from Harry's lap, streaking through the dark house in a blur of grey.

Charlie's house was a low, one level bungalow with various dips, steps and mezzanine levels that separated the different living areas and a dark, polished wood floor with rugs dotted around in strategic places. There were two fires; one Floo and one regular and a low, beamed ceiling. The back of the house was one solid glass wall that looked out onto an incredible cliff face with the balcony that wrapped around the house serving as a patio deck. The view was vertigo inducing.

Charlie's room was two steps down. That had never mattered before. It made the south- west corner of the house, long windows affording more spectacular views of the mountain in the distance and a dense, rich forest to the south.

"Want a bath? Shower?"

"No… just some sleep."

Charlie set Harry down on 'his' side of the bed and pulled off his jeans as Harry ripped his t- shirt off over his head. Charlie stripped down to his boxers and pulled the heavy duvet back, discarding it in favour of the soft fleece blanket he used when he had company, so they wouldn't get too hot in the night. It pained him to watch, but Charlie let Harry shuffle himself down the bed until his dark hair hit the white pillows.

In an affectionate gesture, Charlie removed Harry's glasses and set them on his bedside table. They laid close enough for Harry to be able to see Charlie's features, the strong line of his nose, dusted with freckles, his soft eyelashes, strong jaw, the little chubby earlobes with the tiny silver stud. Harry reached up and ran his fingers through the thick hair, coarser and darker than his brothers; where Ron, Percy and Bill and the twins were strawberry blond, Charlie and Ginny alone were a rich, fiery red.

After a few moments Charlie opened his arms and with a dry sob, Harry heaved himself into the hot embrace and, for the first time since this entire disaster happened, cried himself into an exhausted sleep.


	4. four

_December 1996_

_The news of Harry's sexuality crept through the school like a poisonous fog; no one was heard talking about it, but somehow everyone seemed to know. Nothing was spoken aloud until Malfoy, of all people, decided the temptation was too much to bear and decided to call Harry out on the rumour in the main courtyard during morning break._

_Harry's reply: "Sorry, Malfoy, you're just not my type," and the accompanying, patronising pat on the cheek was all it took for rumour to become fact, and for Gryffindor, once again, to claim one over on their rival house. He was tempted to stay at school during the Christmas period, just to prove that he had nothing to run or hide from, but he'd be staying alone and didn't want that. So he accepted Molly's offer of a place to stay for the holidays and returned to The Burrow on the train with Ron. _

_When he learned that Charlie was going to be back too he almost regretted his decision. He came down with a stomach bug so severe it caused him to disappear most mealtimes to Ron's room alone, only to eat like a horse only a few hours later. _

_During the day it was harder to hide but Harry had always liked being outside. The frostbitten yard was welcoming when he was wrapped up in a scarf and hat and coat, providing the chance for some peace and quiet within the normally hectic Weasley household. Although Harry repeatedly told Ron and Hermione that he was okay, that he didn't need their help or want their sympathy, it seemed like the eldest Weasley brother saw through his protestations._

"_You can always talk to me, you know that," Bill said after cornering Harry feeding the chickens. "But the best person would really be Charlie. He won't mind me telling you – he's gay too."_

_Harry's head jerked up in shock. "He's… what?"_

"_He's not, you know, flamboyant about it or anything." Bill shrugged. "He told mum and dad a few years ago now. I know he won't mind if you want advice or anything."_

_Harry nodded, still feeding the chickens with short, jerky motions that now looked very forced. The red on his cheeks spread down his neck, and with raised eyebrows, Bill interpreted his reaction._

"_Ahh. Okay."_

"_Don't tell him," Harry begged, unable to meet Bill's eyes. "Please."_

"_I won't," Bill promised. "It's your business, Harry."_

_After a very brotherly slap on the shoulder, Bill left Harry alone with his thoughts. _


	5. five

_A/N: This is for mauralee88, who just __gets__ it._

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><p>He woke with his head resting on a warm, muscled chest, an arm wrapped tightly around his shoulders to anchor him in close. Charlie was awake, he was sure of that, soft breaths on his neck calming and arousing him all at once.<p>

Oh. So it did still work. That was good news.

He felt Charlie chuckle softly and kiss his head. Harry yawned and stretched, pulling gently away from the embrace. Charlie didn't try to stop him.

"Good morning," a rough voice murmured.

"'Morning."

To his credit, Charlie didn't ask how Harry was feeling. The answer was pretty obvious, really. They laid in the quiet solitude for a while longer, Harry tracing the thin pencil lines of the tattoo on Charlie's upper arm. It depicted not a lion, or a dragon, or anything else one might associate with the proud Gryffindor dragon keeper, but a sketch- like design of an old, gnarled, twisting tree. His family tree.

"I've missed you being here," Charlie said simply as Harry stretched again, turning himself over to look out at the early morning light. He curved himself around Harry's body, giving him plenty of time to move away if he wanted to and gently nudging uncooperative knees into making the Z shape that would allow him to fit his body next to the other man.

"I missed you, too."

Harry took Charlie's arm, pulling it tighter around his waist and tangling their fingers together. Charlie kissed the warm curve of a pale shoulder and let his arms be all the comfort Harry needed.

Because he wasn't a skinny sixteen year old any more, desperate for the love and attention of a parent or a godparent or a fatherly headmaster. This Harry wore his hair cropped closer to his head in an attempt to portray authority rather than the casual excess of dishevelled youth. His arms were strong, tightly muscled from shoulder to fingertip with dark hairs blooming from his forearms. His chest was broad and although he still had the scrawny, slightly malnourished appearance of his youth, these days he was lean and toned rather than unfed. When standing, Charlie remembered, Harry used to be about an inch taller than him. Not any more though.

"Charlie," Harry whispered.

"Mm?"

"I… uh… I need to use the loo."

"Okay."

Harry felt a deep twist of gratification that Charlie hadn't made a big deal of his confession, or the fact that he couldn't take care of these things without help. His legs _worked_, was the most frustrating thing. His thigh muscles could contract and release, lifting his legs over and over. But he couldn't put any weight down on the joints or they'd give way. The Healers had already repaired his shin bones four times after his experiments at walking; it was a painful experience that Harry wasn't in a rush to re-live.

Charlie turned away as Harry took care of his call of nature and started up his impressive shower. The bathroom was as beautiful as the rest of the house and boasted a walk in shower unit with water that fell from the ceiling rather than a shower head.

"Do you want to sit down? Or hold on to me?" Charlie asked as he stripped out of his boxers.

"Hold on. Please."

Charlie left for a moment to run back to the bedroom for his wand, then transfigured the towel rail in the shower so that it would support Harry's weight. Just in case.

True to his word, though, Charlie supported Harry with his arms around Harry's waist, letting Harry wrap his arms around his neck with his upper arms braced on his shoulders. It was awkward, but pressed them together under the steaming water.

Harry sighed and trailed his lips along wet skin from shoulder to ear.

"Better?"

"Much."

Their first, tentative kiss since the accident was in the stone tiled room, with steam swirling around them distorting their reality. Charlie's kisses had always put a little thrill in Harry's belly, a thrill that more often than not sank lower to pool as a throbbing heat in his groin.

"Charlie," he said on a low groan, rocking his body forward to brush their growing cocks together.

"I know," was the murmured response. Charlie swept his tongue into Harry's mouth as they both clung to each other for dear life, grinding and thrusting where they could, although water was a harsh lubricant. "Are you... are you sure you want this?"

"Fuck, Charlie." Harry caught his breath. Or might have sobbed. "I'm a man… I'm still a man."

Feeling like a complete and utter dick, Charlie turned Harry so his back was pressed into the cool tile wall of the shower. With renewed passion he deepened their kisses; soft licks to hard, demanding kisses and bites and nips, thin skin on his neck sucked deeply into a wanting mouth to mark and possess and _bruise._

With this new support Charlie could grab Harry's arse cheek for extra leverage, pulling them even closer together as hardness sought out hardness, desperate for friction and touch. Harry broke away, panting for breath as he dropped his head back, eyes screwing closed as he lost himself; the sight of his lover crying out his name tipped Charlie over the edge with him.

A new kind of hot wetness bound them together at the waist and they shared slower, but no less intense kisses as they found their scrambled grip on reality again.

It was awkward, and they had to learn new ways of holding on to each other and the transfigured towel rail in order to wash Harry's skin, from his tear crusted face to the matted hair at his ankle, and the sticky mess between. The smell of lime and tea tree was always one he had associated with Charlie and having the green shower gel massaged into his skin peaked his interest, and his arousal, once again.

"You horny this morning, baby?" Charlie teased as he massaged a firm bottom for longer than strictly necessary.

"That was the first time I've come in over three weeks," Harry said, his words broken by grunts and groans. "I wanted you so much."

"I always want you," Charlie said. Ran his nose up the curve of Harry's squeaky clean underarm.

"I know. Me too."


	6. six

_August 1997_

_Harry had hoped that half a year and all the events that had transpired in the interim would have dampened the… crush… he had developed on Ron's brother. When he arrived back at The Burrow, though, to prepare for Bill and Fleur's wedding, it became clear that the embers had not been extinguished, merely contained ready to flare again when they were reunited. _

_Charlie looked… fucking gorgeous. He arrived the night after Harry in a linen shirt rolled up to his elbows, tatty jeans, his hands sporting some rather spectacular cuts and scars as proof of his dangerous, exciting job. He had a sack slung over his shoulders like an out of season Father Christmas and rich, electric blue dragon hide boots on his feet. _

_At Harry's birthday supper they'd found themselves sat side by side on the long wooden bench and Harry had to grip his fork extra tight to contain his excitement that his knee, his fucking __knee__ was pressed right up tight against Charlie's. It wasn't due to a lack of space. There was plenty of room at the table. _

_In the early hours of the morning, Harry couldn't sleep. There was too much on his mind, too much that he should be doing, preparing for his hunt for Horcruxes, but his mind was occupied with one dragon keeper sleeping just one floor away._

_Or not, as he found out when he wandered through the house, helping himself to a glass of milk then going to sit outside on the back step to try and escape the stifling heat of the summer night. _

"_Hey," a voice said, startling him and causing him to slosh milk onto the stone. _

_He looked down into blue/ grey, smiling eyes._

"_Hey," Harry choked out. "You made me jump."_

"_Sorry," Charlie whispered, patting the step next to him and clearing up the spilled milk with a wave of his wand. "So you couldn't sleep either?"_

"_No. It's too hot and Ron is snoring."_

_Charlie laughed softly. "Yeah, so is Bill."_

_Harry sipped his milk and searched for something appropriate to say. Finding nothing, he settled on something inappropriate. "I'm sorry about Christmas. I never meant to make things awkward for you."_

_When Charlie sighed deeply, as though he had been expecting (and dreading) this conversation, Harry felt the nerves in his belly dissolve into a sick feeling. _

"_It wasn't awkward because of anything you did, I. I just… shit. I hope you understand that this is hard for me. I'm eight years older than you, and you were underage. I couldn't…"_

_He couldn't. Not he didn't want to - he couldn't. Harry's heart leapt to his throat. _

"_I'm not underage any more," Harry whispered, daring to hope. _

"_No," Charlie said, chewing on his bottom lip. "You're not."_

"_It's okay if you don't like me like that, it's okay, I've kind of gotten used to the idea over the past year, it was just you were the first man that I felt _that_ way about, so you're always going to be sort of special to me…"_

_Charlie broke of Harry's incoherent babbling by taking his chin and turning it into his kiss. Harry's first, soft, sweet, oh so real kiss. _


	7. seven

_A/N: Sorry for the delay in this one. Sporadic internet access, tiredness and working too hard have taken their toll.  
>Thank you to all of my super-fucking-awesome reviewers. Without you, I am nothing.<em>

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><p>Harry refused to be humiliated by needing help to get dressed. The fact of the matter was he couldn't do it alone even if he wanted to, so accepting help wasn't really a choice. It was just his life. What his life had become.<p>

And Charlie was just... well... Charlie, really. He didn't make a big deal out of anything. It was one of the many reasons they got on so well.

"Breakfast?" Charlie asked.

"Please."

It was a struggle to the kitchen, but everything was a struggle. Harry sat up on one of the counters and leaned back against the upper cupboard to watch Charlie cook. He'd learned more than a little from his mother.

"I need to go food shopping," Charlie said as he scrambled eggs.

"I'll be okay for a couple of hours."

"Is there anything you want in particular?"

"KitKats," Harry said with a cheeky smile. Charlie laughed.

"Okay. I'm sure I can do that."

He transferred two plates of scrambled eggs on toast to the kitchen table then helped Harry to sit.

"Do you have any plans?" Harry asked.

"I should check in with my boss at some point," he said. "But she knows… enough… about this that it shouldn't be a problem. Other than that, nothing, really."

"Are you seeing anyone at the moment?" Harry asked bluntly.

Charlie carefully set his knife and fork down. "No, Harry. There's just you."

Harry nodded and chewed the inside of his cheek, feeling like a dick. "Not for me, either."

"I thought we'd sorted this years ago?"

A lone, childish shoulder shrugged petulantly. "I haven't seen you for months and months. You didn't want me earlier, so I thought…"

"Don't think," Charlie said softly. "I'm so fucking scared of hurting you. More than you can know. I really don't want to lose you, either, so please, please don't do this to us."

"I'm going to unpack my bag while you're gone, then," Harry continued as though their little non- argument hadn't happened. "I've got some stuff…"

"We'll find room for all of it."

"Okay. Thank you."

Charlie kissed him in response.

xXx

It was strange – this being alone, for the first time since the accident, no one there to catch him when he fell. _If_ he fell, Harry mentally corrected himself. He had been set the simple task of unpacking his backpack and restoring the items therein to their normal size, then deciding where in the house they should go. Clothes were easy – bedroom, as were things for the bathroom. Little things, that made his flat his home, were harder. Although Charlie had lived in this place for nearly six years, it had always been Charlie's house, in the same way his flat was his. Their lives very rarely merged.

Harry collapsed back into the sofa cushions with a soft grunt and Charlie's cat looked up from where he was napping in front of the fire. The simple task had him leaning over the edge of the sofa again and again to reach into his bag, relying on the muscles in his stomach and back to keep him upright. It was exhausting. But he didn't want Charlie to think he was incapable of even the simplest of tasks, so he continued.

Books could go on the tall bookcase in the corner of the main living space. Photographs of his parents were harder. Bedroom, probably. Harry laughed as he pulled a miniature wok from the backpack and restored it to its regular size. It had been a gift from Hermione one Christmas and he used it all the time. It wasn't on the list they'd compiled back in the hospital, but neither were a stack of Molly's jumpers or his work diary or his Firebolt.

His broomstick.

He didn't need legs to fly.

Harry swallowed back tears a few times, reflexively trying to hold back the tears that pricked at the back of his eyelids. Flying was one of the few things he still kept for himself. He played Quidditch with local kids whenever he had the chance, which was depressingly rare, and even though he'd upgraded his broom several times over the years Sirius' gift remained special to him. Sacred.

Hermione wouldn't have packed it if it wasn't safe for him to fly, would she?

The answer was probably yes, that it was in his bag for sentimental rather than practical reasons, but the temptation to sit side- saddle on the thin piece of wood and loop the room was almost overwhelming. He could stay close to the floor. And go slow. Of course he could.

Very slowly, and very carefully Harry shifted his weight to the edge of the sofa and inelegantly shoved the broomstick under his dead thighs. With one hand either side of his legs he gripped tightly and waited for the broom to respond. He guided the Firebolt an inch off the sofa, then two, then six and he was _alive_ again for the first time since the damn accident; alive and independent and free.

He had never been scared of flying before, not even scared of falling but this was different. The potential for causing further life threatening injury was also much higher than it had been since he was eleven years old.

With his toes dragging along the bare floorboards, Harry made a small circle around the sofa, never venturing far enough away that he wouldn't be able to catch himself if he fell. But there was a reason why he was the youngest Gryffindor Seeker in living memory (no one had yet stolen his title in the years since he'd left Hogwarts). Flying was as natural a process to him as walking was to everyone else. He wasn't going to fall.

Once he was certain of this fact, his loops of the house became bolder and increasingly adventurous. The step down from one living area to another caused his heart to jump to his throat; for those few seconds his toes left the floor. But within moments it was okay again and he manoeuvred himself over to the bookcase to run his fingertips over the worn spines of Charlie's favourite stories, then was struck with inspiration.

He grabbed the edge of a bookshelf for support and wriggled his wand from his back pocket. Taking a deep breath, he directed his wand at the pile of his things and said: "_Accio_ book."

One single paperback flew through the air towards him and landed in his outstretched hand with a satisfying smack. Smiling to himself, Harry set it down on a shelf. He repeated the Summoning charm, over and over until the stack of books had been replaced onto the bookcase.

That done, Harry flew back over to the sofa where his wok still sat on the wide arm and lifted that on to his lap and headed for the kitchen. He was half way back to his sofa again when a stumbling at the door alerted him to Charlie's return. Harry froze.

"Harry?" the warm voice called out.

"_Shit, shit, shit,_" Harry muttered under his breath.

Charlie walked through with an armful of bags and windswept hair and stopped dead at the sight of Harry on his Firebolt.

To Harry's complete shock, Charlie smirked, closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Bloody typical," he said and walked through to the kitchen. Harry decided to be brave and follow him, keeping his pace purposefully slow.

Charlie met him again in the hall before he got all the way across the open living space. He smirked again as he stepped right up close to Harry, ran his fingers through dark hair and leaned in for a soft, slow kiss.

"You're an absolute nightmare," Charlie whispered with his forehead pressed against Harry's.

"I know," Harry whispered back. "Please don't be mad."

"And to think, I bought you your KitKats."


	8. eight

_December 1998_

"_No, Harry, I'm not going to do this with you," Charlie said as he gently removed Harry's fingers from his belt loops. _

"_Why not?" Harry demanded._

"_Because… shit, Harry, it's complicated. I live too far away. You deserve more than a long distance relationship."_

"_I don't mind that though. Do my opinions not matter?"_

"_It's not that and you know it," Charlie sighed, leading Harry through to a quieter corner of the Leaky Cauldron, although in the pre- Christmas crush, the pub was pretty packed. _

"_What then?" Harry demanded. He threw back a short glass of scarlet Firewhiskey and placed both his hands on Charlie's broad chest. He'd shot up in the past year, riding the tail end of a growth spurt they never expected from the perpetually short and skinny teenager. But six months in Auror training had bulked him up, drawing his muscles tightly together in places where he'd never had muscles before. No longer scrawny at sixteen or desperate at seventeen, but aching at eighteen for the only person who he couldn't have. _

"_Because I only come home a couple of times a year," Charlie said softly, stroking the hair at the base of Harry's neck. "Because you're so much younger than me, and you deserve to fall dizzyingly in love with someone who can reciprocate immediately, not after two days of waiting for a letter by owl. Because you're Harry bloody Potter, and because you can have anyone."_

"_Anyone except you," Harry said stubbornly. _

"_I'm really sorry," Charlie whispered. "Please believe me. If things were different..."_

"_But they're not."_

"_No."_

"_And I can't change your mind."_

"_Just… give it a few years, yeah? And see what you want when you've seen a bit more of the world."_

_Harry nodded. "Kiss me goodbye?"_

"_It's not goodbye."_

_In the dark, cramped corner of the Leaky Cauldron, more than one person oversaw Charlie Weasley kissing Harry Potter, and more than one eyebrow was raised at the sight. More, though, smiled quietly to themselves, or to their companion for the evening, and thought how nice it was that Harry had finally found himself a nice boy to settle down with._

_What they didn't hear, over the sounds of the busy, bustling pub, was the sound of Harry Potter's heart slowly breaking. _


	9. nine

_A/N: I'm shocked and so, so amazed at the positive attention this story is getting. Sorry I'm not replying to more reviews... I'm away from my computer for large parts of the day at the moment (sob) but I appreciate each and every one of them. For anyone reading Et Dona Ferentes, I'll try and update it tomorrow for you. Thank you all so much for your patience!_

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><p>Harry yawned through his lunch and after clearing up, Charlie carried him through to the wide, low sofa that looked out of the glass wall onto the hazy afternoon sun and the mountains.<p>

"'M not tired," Harry protested.

"Yes, you are. Not that I'm surprised, seeing as you spent all morning flying about."

"Don't go."

"I won't."

Charlie took the outside edge of the sofa, leaving Harry to lie with his back to the cushions and his head on Charlie's chest, looking out over the spectacular view. Too soon to hold any credence to his protests, he was asleep. Charlie smiled indulgently and gently threaded his fingers through blue-black hair over and over to soothe and calm them both. He felt no desire to read or otherwise distract himself and instead, just basked in the feeling of rightness and home that accompanied having Harry in his arms.

Charlie was woken by the cat jumping up onto his chest and meowing loudly, wanting to be fed. Harry stirred and nuzzled in to Charlie's neck further, murmuring something incomprehensible and leaving wet kisses on stubbled skin.

"I think I've developed a redhead fetish," Harry admitted. "I was dreaming about you."

Charlie scratched behind Puff's ears to placate the feline momentarily. "That's not news. I could have told you that years ago."

As Harry stretched he gave Charlie an indulgent smile, then went to swing his legs over the edge of the sofa to get up, forgetting his recent disability. The result was a loud _thud_ as he landed on his arse on the floor. Charlie sat up immediately, displacing Puff with little concern and leaned over the side of the sofa.

Harry wore a shocked expression that forced Charlie to press his lips together to stop himself from laughing.

"Ow," Harry said, rubbing his bum with the palm of his hand.

That was all it took for Charlie to burst out laughing. "Oh baby. I'm sorry," he said through his giggles.

"You're mean," Harry sulked as Charlie reached down and pulled him back up onto his lap, graciously rubbing Harry's bum for him. Harry tucked his head under Charlie's chin and sulked as he was rocked like a child with a scraped knee.

"Come on, I'll make you your favourite for dinner."

Frowning, Harry asked "What's my favourite dinner?"

"When it's my turn to cook," Charlie teased. It was Harry's turn to snort with laughter.

"I can cook," he protested.

"Want to help?"

"Mhmm."

With Harry already cradled on his lap it was easy for Charlie to lift him up and carry him through to the kitchen where he sat on the counter next to the hob. This routine – cooking together – was familiar and a welcome distraction. To be fair, they were both good at cooking, Harry having learned in the first ten years of his life and Charlie in the past ten, while living alone.

His duties were reduced to stirring the thick tomato sauce for the pasta that was boiling merrily away on the other side of the hob (where it couldn't spill and scald him). They developed a system: Charlie would chop the vegetables and Harry would stir them in. Childish though it was, Harry couldn't help but be thrilled with Charlie's refusal to treat him any differently.

While they let the sauce simmer Charlie made garlic bread and put it in the oven, then stood between Harry's legs and kissed him slowly but thoroughly, searching for reassurances and giving his own. He gripped strong thighs that he knew had been reduced to incompetency while Harry twined his fingers in the shorter hairs at the base of Charlie's neck.

These were the kisses of two men who intimately knew the lines and curves and contours of each other's lips and tongues and mouths. Kisses that couldn't be counted or really even defined from what could be just breathing with one mouth pressed against another.

xXx

Charlie was woken not by noise or motion, but the instinctive knowledge that his partner was in pain. Harry whimpered in his sleep and Charlie woke him with gentle kisses on his bare shoulder and cheek, murmuring softly until Harry was awake and actively crying out in pain.

"Harry. Harry, what's wrong?"

"Cramp," Harry groaned.

"Where?"

"Leg..."

Charlie had already thrown the duvet back and sat up, shifting round so he could pull Harry's leg into his lap. With strong, sure fingers he worked the muscles that Harry couldn't tense himself; digging his thumbs in deep and causing Harry to cry out again, knowing that this was the best way to ease the pain.

"I'm sorry," he murmured gently. "Nearly there."

Harry nodded. The sheets were bunched in his hands and his teeth were chewing his lip so hard Charlie was worried he might draw blood.

Moment by moment, Harry started to relax until Charlie was pretty sure the other man was just enjoying the gentle attention of the massage. Through his sleep dazed brain, Charlie moved down to gently rub the muscles in Harry's foot, just in case, and was going to start on the other leg when Harry shook his head and opened his arms.

"I'm better, now. Come here."

Charlie settled with his head on Harry's chest, this position so familiar to them both. Harry sighed and Charlie snuggled until he found that spot where he could hear Harry's heartbeat through his chest.

"Sorry to wake you up."

"I don't mind. Do you think you can sleep again?"

Harry yawned widely. "Yeah. Don't move though. I like you there."


	10. ten

_December 1999_

_It was supposed to have been a random lotto draw that picked which members of the team got invited to the Ministry Christmas Ball on behalf of the Auror office, but Harry didn't think it was much of a coincidence that the three lucky winners were also owners of a shiny Order of Merlin, First Class. He was horrified when he learned that he, Neville and Ron had been selected, but the reaction of the rest of the team – incessant mocking – reassured him that the function was more of a wooden spoon prize than the blue ribbon. _

_Still._

_Ron had a date in Hermione, and Neville had Ginny, and he couldn't fall back on his old trick of inviting Luna to anything where he was required to bring a date because she was in the Congo searching for one nonexistent creature or other. He'd tried bringing a male date once, but that was a disaster from the get- go. He decided, in the end, to go it alone. _

"_Butterbeer," he said to the witch behind the bar, grateful that the speeches were over with and they still had dessert to come. _

"_Hey, Harry," came a voice from behind him, a voice that he'd recognise anywhere._

_He managed to suppress the cry of surprise as he whirled around to the unintentionally erotic sight of Charlie in dress robes. He couldn't, however, suppress his smile. _

"_Hi. Drink?" he asked as casually as possible, given the current circumstances._

"_Please."_

_When they were both armed with bottles, Harry turned back to his one time crush. "I don't know how to best say this, but-"_

"_Why the hell am I here?" Charlie supplied._

"_Yeah, something like that," Harry laughed._

"_I was invited by RCMC because of some training work I did with a group of dragons in Wales," he said, taking a long pull on the bottle. _

"_Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_Hermione's department?"_

"_Yeah," Charlie said, suspicion colouring his words. "She told me not to bring a date…"_

_Harry laughed again, dropping his head to hide the pink of embarrassment in his cheeks. "I think we've been set up."_

_He looked across the wide, grand ballroom to where his nearest and dearest friends had all huddled around the seat he had vacated, watching the conversation at the bar with rapt attention. On being caught, Ron's ears burned red, Neville looked sheepish, Ginny laughed, and Hermione waved at them coquettishly. _

"_Do you want to get out of here?" Charlie asked, draining his bottle. "I know a great place in Kensington where we can get the most amazing chocolate cake…"_

"_Yeah," Harry agreed immediately. "Lets go."_

_Charlie offered him a hand and Harry immediately slipped his own into the dry heat, gripping tightly. They both laughed as they waved at the table across the room, then Harry felt the pull of Side- Along Apparition and the ballroom disappeared altogether. _

_They removed and shrunk their outer robes to reveal what could pass for a very strange suit in the Muggle cake shop, although the girl behind the counter still gave them a look as Charlie made their order. _

"_I've got it," Harry said, reaching in his pocket for the ten pound note he always kept in there for occasions such as these. _

"_Thanks," Charlie said as he took the cake and two bottles of coca cola across to a little booth in the corner. "I'm always scared I'll end up looking like my dad when I have to deal with Muggle money."_

"_You are starting to look like him," Harry said as he pocketed his change._

_Charlie slapped his forehead dramatically. "Oh god." He shrugged it off good-naturedly. "How are you, anyway?"_

"_Busy," Harry answered truthfully. "Since we qualified we've barely had two consecutive days off. We've just been on one assignment after another."_

"_But you're enjoying it."_

"_Oh, yeah."_

"_Are you seeing anyone?" Charlie asked. He dug his fork into his cake and took a large bite, humming with pleasure when the chocolate hit his tongue. Harry followed suit and groaned unashamedly._

"_That is good cake. And no. I'm not seeing anyone." He refused to ask the question back. _

_Charlie nudged his knee under the table playfully and moved on to the next subject. _

_He hadn't even realised how long they had been talking until the girl from behind the counter started stacking chairs on tables around them. Harry checked the watch on his wrist that had once belonged to Fabian Prewett, which showed that it was a few minutes before 10pm. _

"_We should go," he said, letting the tone of his voice tell how little he liked this idea. _

_Charlie nodded and stretched. "I'm sorry. Did you have plans for tonight?"_

"_Pub with Neville and Gin," Harry said, shrugging. "Back to the flat on my own."_

"_Where's Ron?"_

"_In Hermione somewhere."_

"_Oh, I could have done without that mental image," Charlie groaned. _

"_Do you… want to come with me?" Harry asked, not knowing if this was the right question._

_Charlie nodded. "That would be good._

_It was awkward, inviting Charlie into a place where he'd been plenty of times before, but not like this. As he'd expected, Ron and Hermione were out, most likely at her place but possibly at Neville and Ginny's. _

"_What the hell is that?" Charlie asked, pointing to a large, vaguely phallic shaped ornament in the corner of the living room._

_Harry grinned. "Oh. It was a present from Fred and George. I think they thought it was a joke and we'd hate it but Ron said it was cool and put it pride of place."_

"_Does Ron know it looks like a cock?"_

"_I haven't ever asked him."_

_Charlie laughed as he turned and suddenly he was right there... Harry wanted to reach out and touch but he wasn't sure if he was allowed to quite yet._

"_I waited," Harry said. "For a year."_

"_And?" Charlie asked. _

"_And you made me wait a year," Harry said, smirking. "Nothing changed, Charlie. I just want you a hell of a lot more."_

"_You waited," Charlie said._

_Harry nodded._

"_Without even knowing if I'd come back."_

"_I knew you'd come back." At Charlie's raised eyebrow, Harry continued. "I have a theory... that you want me just as much as I want you."_

_Charlie pressed his lips together but amusement shone in his eyes. "Maybe."_

_They closed the gap then, clinging to each other and finding a kiss that they shouldn't have had to wait for. Harry pulled them both over to the sofa and around their kisses, they started to slowly remove the formal dress robes they both still wore. _

"_Harry... I... there's something you should know," Charlie said. Harry frowned. "If this is going where I think it's going then... fuck. Have you been with anyone else? We should talk about this. You know... for protection."_

_Harry wet his lips with his tongue. "I haven't had sex with anyone. There might have been a few blowjobs."_

"_Okay. I'm clean. Tested, I mean."_

"_Okay."_

"_And... I don't know if this going to be a problem or not, really. I don't know what you want, but I don't really top all that much."_

_Harry's eyebrows raised in surprise, and in question. "Oh."_

"_I mean, I can, if that's what you want."_

"_Oh. I, um, I think that's okay."_

"_Yeah?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_Okay, good," Charlie said, finishing the task of unbuttoning Harry's shirt and running his hands over the smooth chest. "Because I want this a lot."_

_Harry nodded. "Me too."_

* * *

><p><em>AN: That was far too long for a flashback chapter. I better leave it there and finish this scene later... *smirk*_


	11. eleven

_A/N: Apologies for the delay. I had a manic last few days in Edinburgh, but I'm home again now, hopefully with more time to write. This chapter is pretty much pure smut. I love it._

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><p>In the living room, Harry was on the verge of a frustrated tantrum. It was silly; all he'd tried to do was make a cup of tea for them both and take it over to sit and look at the rain. But he needed one hand on his broomstick and although he was capable of balancing two mugs in one hand, one of them had slipped, and when it came to saving himself or the scalding hot liquid, he'd chosen the former.<p>

Charlie, hadn't minded, of course. He never did.

"I don't think I can do this any more," Harry whispered, terrified of saying it out loud.

"No," Charlie contradicted him. "No, you don't give up, Harry, that's not who you are."

"I can't walk!" Harry screamed. Furious tears priced the back of his eyeballs, seizing his hands into violent spasms and his lungs into breathless incapacity. "I don't have a lover any more, I have a carer! You have no idea how this feels. You have no fucking idea."

"I don't pretend to," Charlie whispered, staying well back from Harry's tantrum even though his instincts screamed at him to go and hold him. "Tell me, baby."

"I'm not your baby any more," Harry said, half sobbing, half spitting the words. "I'm your fucking patient."

"If you think that I only love you because of who you are or what you are, then you're very, very wrong."

"I don't think that," Harry said. "You deserve better than this."

Charlie could see it, the moment the painful cramp cruelly tore through Harry's calf muscle, twisting his spine with the pain and how he twisted his face to try and hide it. With a calmness that frightened himself, Charlie knelt before the man he loved and gently rubbed the cramp out.

When it was gone, he chanced a look up. Harry had both hands under his glasses, the heels of his hands pressed into his eye sockets but not stemming the flow of tears that leaked from them. Charlie felt his heart break for the strongest man he knew.

Maybe he'd been too gentle with Harry. God knows, he didn't need to be treated with kid gloves. Charlie grabbed hold of his ankles and yanked Harry from the sofa harshly, ignoring his surprised grunt and catching him as his ass landed on Charlie's thighs.

"Mine," he whispered as he settled unresponsive legs either side of his waist, pulling Harry tightly to his body and claiming a kiss that felt long overdue. They _devoured_ each other. Not gentle kisses that spoke of love and reassurance, but harsh, violent, passionate kisses with tongues that speared and licked and took, hands that grabbed and hips that canted for friction. Charlie ignored the wetness that transferred from Harry's cheek to his own. That didn't matter any more.

"Fuck me," Harry demanded.

Charlie laughed, the sound muffled where his lips were still pressed to Harry's skin. "No fucking chance."

"Then let me fuck you."

"Do you want to try?"

"Shit. Yes."

It was easier to let Charlie carry him through to the bedroom than to Summon his broomstick and fly there, so Harry conceded to being taken care of. When they were horizontal it no longer mattered and stripping each other of their clothes was something intimate and greedy. It didn't feel bad.

"How do you want to do this?" Charlie said in a low voice.

Fortunately, Harry had given it plenty of thought. "On your back. You're going to need to help me, but I think I can move by myself."

"Okay."

With a little bit of shuffling, the two naked men arranged themselves so one had his legs spread wide, the other lying between them with his weight on his hands. Harry looked down and smiled, then leaned in to kiss again.

They laid like that, touching and giving and taking until they just had to keep going or risk explosion. It was awkward at times, of course it was, that was to be expected. But underneath all of it there was the calm familiarity of an act they had performed together countless times before.

"I wish I could suck you off," Harry murmured, his teeth somewhat occupied as they clamped down on Charlie's earlobe.

"I'm sure we could arrange that," Charlie said breathlessly.

Harry huffed a laugh. "I need to be inside you again. I need... to know... that this hasn't changed too."

"Let me show you."

Charlie reached for the bottle of lube he liked to keep close and arched his back to prepare himself. Harry, not wanting to miss a single second of this moment, lapped first at Charlie's nipple, then scraped his teeth over it.

With his hand firmly grasping Harry's cock, Charlie guided it into himself and wrapped his legs around Harry's thighs to help him stay there.

"Oh," Harry gasped. "Oh, god."

It took time, quite a long time for them to figure out how they made this work. But it did work. They still fit together like pieces of a puzzle that were cut to sit snugly next to one another. Harry's thrusts, at first, were rough and uncoordinated, painful, at times, but craved nonetheless.

As they finally found their rhythm, Harry leaned in to kiss his partner, very slowly. Carefully.

Charlie looked up at him from under heavy eyelids; lazy, sated, smiling with the serene comfort of someone else moving inside him.

"I'm not sure if I can get you there," Harry said. The tension in his voice was evident... showing just how much effort it was costing him to make love.

"Don't think about that yet," Charlie said softly. "It feels so good... just keep going."

Harry nodded and Charlie reached up, pressing his hand to the middle of Harry's back to pull him down close.

"Like this?" Harry asked, changing his movements from thrusts to a deep, aching grind.

Charlie whimpered. "Oh god, yes."

Harry buried his face in Charlie's neck and inhaled deeply. This smell - Charlie's smell - told him more of home than anything else in the world. Charlie brought his knees up further, wrapping them tightly around Harry's waist and he couldn't thrust any more even if he wanted to.

"Sorry it's-"

"No," Charlie said, cutting him off before he could finish. "Feel..."

He took hold of Harry's hand and trailed it down his own body. Of his own accord, Harry took hold of Charlie's cock... his rock hard, swollen, aching cock. Charlie whimpered. Brushing his fingers over the soft hairs on Charlie's stomach, Harry explored the V of his hips and down to where the other man's balls were drawn up tight.

"It's good?" Harry asked, not quite believing.

In response, Charlie arched his back off the bed, affording Harry even deeper access to his body.

Harry gasped, pressed his lips to the pulse point in Charlie's neck and slammed his hand back down on the bed next to Charlie's hip for leverage. They rocked together, finding new ways to move now that Harry couldn't rise up onto his knees to push back down, or use his thighs to control his thrusts.

Still, Harry knew the body underneath him, knew it intimately. When Charlie was on the edge of coming his whole chest and neck would flush pink, his fingers would scrabble to hold on to anything and his lips, so pretty and red where he'd been biting down on them, would part to allow the low, deep moan to escape.

Harry watched this, knowing all of it in advance, not that it made the event itself any less impressive. Watching Charlie come, making Charlie come, feeling Charlie come... all of these were right up there amongst his list of favourite activities.

And the best part was, when Charlie came his ass gripped tightly to his cock, tighter than any fist ever could. The waves of the other man's orgasm rippling through his ass, the clench- and- contract of his muscles drew Harry's own orgasm out of him. He grunted through it and Charlie kissed his neck, whispering words that didn't quite reach his ears.

The sound of his own blood rushing echoed in his ears and the soft breaths on his hair suggested that Charlie had probably made it through alive, too. The smell of sex, of their own sweat and come was nearly enough to get him hard again. He'd missed this... the deep, soul confirming connection he had with one other person on the planet. This was what reminded him that he was alive. That there was something worth living for.

xXx

"I've thought of something," Charlie said over breakfast the next morning. "To help with the cramps."

"Hm?"

"It's a pressure cuff," Charlie explained. "We use it on the dragons when they're incubating their eggs. The mothers - they're very protective."

"I know," Harry said wryly. Charlie rolled his eyes.

"Yeah. Well. Sometimes they don't leave their nests for months at a time and then when the babies are born the mothers are too weak to go and find food. By putting these pressure cuffs on their legs, it keeps the blood circulating and the muscles working, even when they're not moving."

"How the hell do you get it on them?" Harry asked.

"It's a charm. I'd have to adapt it for you, and it'll probably be a bit painful at times, but it'll feel like someone is constantly massaging your legs. To keep the muscles working."

Harry pouted. "I like it when you massage my legs."

Charlie smirked. "I can take it off for a time. I'll still do it for you. I'm just worried about you when I'm out at work."

Sighing, Harry shifted on the sofa then wriggled under Charlie's arm. Charlie tried to hide his surprise. Harry never was much one for snuggling. He gently ran his fingers through Harry's messy hair and when he didn't immediately pull away, he did it again.

"When are you going back to work?"

"Not until you're ready."

"Ready for what?"

"To be on your own all day," Charlie said, repeating the soothing gesture.

Harry hummed softly and turned in to Charlie's hand. "Can I come with you?"

"No," Charlie said, laughing.

"Why? I'm a good flier. I'm a more than good flier, I'm a fucking amazing flier."

"It's not just about flying. It's about keeping you safe."

Frowning, Harry asked "Would you have taken me before the accident?"

Charlie was silent for a moment, then sighed. "Yeah. Probably. If you'd asked."

"You've spent weeks now telling me that I shouldn't let this get in the way of the things that I want to do, and that I can still have a normal life."

"You're twisting my words, Harry."

Harry kissed up his neck slowly and angled their faces into a kiss. "I know. But you know I have a point."

"I'm worried, and I'm allowed to be worried – it runs in my family. You've met my mother. I'm worried about you falling. Or the fact that when I'm out there I need to pay such close attention to what I'm doing or someone could get hurt. And I can't do that and watch you at the same time."

Biting down hard on an earlobe, then soothing the pinch with a wet tongue, Harry gave in. "Promise me you'll think about it?"

"Yeah. Okay."


	12. twelve

_December 1999_

"_Harry."_

_He was woken to his name and the feel of a rough jaw brushing over his shoulder._

"_Harry."_

"_Mm?" He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and blindly groped for the man next to him. "What time is it?"_

"_A little after seven," Charlie said. "If you want me to not be here when Ron gets home I'm going to have to go now."_

_He thought about it for a few seconds. "Stay."_

_There was a thrill in this - waking up naked next to an equally naked man. He couldn't see Charlie smiling but felt the satisfaction radiating from him. Harry rolled over on to his back and an arm was casually thrown across his stomach._

_Like that, he fell back to sleep._

_Later, when he woke again, he was alone and the sounds of the shower in his adjoining bathroom drifted through. He stretched and smiled to himself as Charlie started singing... on impulse he walked through and sat on the edge of the bath to watch hot water sluice down pale, freckled skin._

"_Someone's in a good mood this morning."_

_Charlie jumped a bit, turned, and raised a cheeky eyebrow at the sight of Harry sitting on the cold tile. _

"_Wouldn't you be?" _

"_I am."_

"_Good."_

_He left the water running as Harry passed him a towel then stepped into the vacated space. Harry took his time, reluctantly washing Charlie's smell off his skin and rinsing his hair until he was sure it was clean._

_If he was in any other mind, with any other man, last night would have been disappointing. They hadn't made it as far as actual sex; clothes had been removed, kisses - many kisses - had been exchanged and the thought of Charlie's lips on his skin still sent a little tingle through Harry's spine._

_But as far as the actual act of sex was concerned, they'd stopped before getting that far. _

_Harry had tried to figure out whether or not that mattered and couldn't quite decide. _

_It wasn't that he didn't want to have sex with Charlie... the opposite was true, it was more about taking their time. After all, it had taken them long enough to get to the point where they were naked in bed with each other, the rest would happen eventually. He was sure of that._

_Charlie wasn't in the bedroom as he dressed but the smell of bacon told him the other man was still in the flat. The domestic scene was completely unintentionally arousing as Harry stood, dressed now, in the doorway to the kitchen watching Charlie grill bacon and scramble eggs in formal trousers and an unbuttoned shirt. _

_He crossed the room in a few quick strides and grabbed hold of Charlie's waist, leaning in to plant kisses on his neck. Charlie twisted and leaned back, welcoming the first 'good morning' kiss and gently swaying in Harry's arms. _

_True to form, Hermione and Ron Apparated straight into the hallway rather than announcing themselves through the Floo or front door. _

"_What the - ow!" Ron said, his sentence abruptly cut off with a sharp elbow to the ribs from his fiancée. _

"_Good morning, Harry, Charlie," Hermione said sweetly. _

"_Are you together now?" Ron asked as he crossed to the coffee maker and started to poke it into operation._

"_You set us up!" Harry exclaimed. "Don't sound so bloody surprised."_

"_It's been less than twelve hours," Charlie said and when Harry turned back to the source of the warm, deep voice, he was disappointed to see that the shirt had been re-buttoned. "Give us a bit longer to work things out, Ron."_

"_I don't want any surprises," Ron mumbled as the coffee maker started to produce fragrant steam. "If my brother is going to be making breakfast in my flat not wearing any clothes, I need some warning."_

"_If I were you," Hermione said, pulling her boyfriend into a hug, "I'd get used to it."_

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><p><em>AN: I know, I know, I'm queen of the cockblock. Sort of.  
>It's very hard for me to get my head around the fact that this is the only fanfic I'm working on at the moment. It feels very wrong. Not since... fuck, This Mortal Life have I only had one fic on the go. How do you guys feel about some RemusSirius stuff?_


	13. thirteen

_A/N: I really love writing this story. It just feels so different to other things I've done.  
>That's all I've got to say right now. Sorry I don't reply to more reviews. I love every one of them, I just don't know how to respond, I suppose.<br>You're all far too awesome for me to be able to compose coherent replies._

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><p>It was in the interest of placating Harry that Charlie agreed to go back to work. They had had plenty of arguments about it and Charlie was starting to get nervous about being away from his dragons for so long.<p>

He showered alone, leaving Harry in bed, then dressed in jeans and a long sleeved shirt. Finger- combing his hair back from his face was all the attention it needed, then he sat down on the edge of the bed to nudge Harry awake.

"Mm. Leave me alone."

"I've got to go in a minute."

"M'kay. What time is it?"

"A little after six."

Harry rolled over and let Charlie kiss him, then settled back as Charlie pulled on thick socks.

"Where are you going today?" he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Uh, well, I've got several loops I do on a three week rotation. I'm off to go and check one of my breeding females today... She's not due hatchlings for a few weeks yet but I want to see how she's doing."

"What sort of area do you cover?"

Charlie grunted as he pulled the first of his heavy boots on. "It can vary," he said. "At the moment it's between about two hundred and fifty and three hundred acres."

"And how many animals do you look after?"

Charlie smiled and started to lace his other boot. "Lots of questions." At Harry's frown he added: "I don't mind."

Harry watched with interest as Charlie propped his boot up on the opposite knee and started to lace it up. "At the moment I have nine. That's three breeding females, two non- breeding females and four males. Some of them move on, or move into someone else's territory, or just disappear. Or they get poached."

"Does that happen a lot?"

"More than you'd like to think. A dragon is a very valuable animal. The blood is used in potion making, their hide is used for protective clothing and their hearts make wand cores. The Chinese like their claws and their teeth get used in jewellery. All I've got to be thankful for is that the young are relatively useless for all of that. The older the dragon, the more they're worth."

"Okay."

"I'll be home at lunchtime."

"To check up on _me_."

"Don't sulk," Charlie said lightly. "Do your rehab. And you can do the dishes from last night if you find yourself in need of something to entertain yourself."

Harry nodded and rolled onto his back, scrubbing his hands over the few day's growth of beard on his jaw. He sighed deeply and Charlie could almost see the other man steeling himself, building up his inner strength to just get through one more fucking day.

On impulse, Charlie grabbed Harry's legs and swung them around so that from the knees down, they were hanging off the edge of the bed. Ignoring Harry's "hey!" of surprise, Charlie pulled the black boxers down Harry's thighs and caught the almost soft cock between his lips.

It only took a few moments to work it to full hardness, during which Harry seemed to get over the initial shock and groaned deeply, from his chest, and covered his face with his hands. Charlie was good at sucking cock. More than that, he liked it. He liked the feel of the hard flesh filling his mouth, he liked the taste of it and the smell of it and the way it felt when another man shot his load into the back of his mouth.

Harry's cock, slightly larger than the average and a beautiful specimen to behold, was a particular joy to suck. Charlie liked to use his tongue on the loose skin at the base while rolling the heavy testicles on his fingers, sometimes sucking one of them into his mouth instead. Harry liked to be rimmed, even if he wasn't actually fucked all that often, so Charlie often snuck his tongue back and played there, too, teasing.

With the combined thrill of Charlie's talents and the lingering morning arousal that haunted him daily, Harry orgasmed quickly, filling his partner's mouth with hot come. Charlie kept sucking gently even when Harry thought he was done, prolonging the pleasure for lingering moments.

"What was that for?" Harry asked breathlessly as he recovered and Charlie straightened his clothing.

"Because I wanted to," Charlie said, shrugging. "Because you looked like you could do with it. And because now I can leave the house with the taste of you in my mouth."

"Kinky bastard," Harry said affectionately.

"See you later," Charlie said, kissed him on the nose, and left.


	14. fourteen

_A/N: Well, this week I got my Pottermore welcome letter and lost several hours of time I should have been doing other things while playing. I'm GlowAvis204 (and a Gryffindor - who knew?), please add me because at the moment I'm woefully friendless. Thanks._

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><p><em>February 2000<em>

"_We need to talk."_

_It was never a good way to start a conversation. Charlie sat down at the kitchen table, opposite where Harry was sat staring into a teacup like it might hold the key to his future and held out his hand to take the delicate china._

_He determined quickly that this must have been his mother's contribution to setting Harry and Ron up in the flat together; most of the mugs were thick, sturdy, not like this floral patterned chinaware. _

_The dregs of Harry's tea remained in the cup and Charlie swirled it three times with his left hand then turned it over to drain. He'd read the leaves once Harry had told him whatever it was that needed to be told._

"_Okay," Charlie said._

_Finally, Harry raised his eyes._

"_They're sending me away."_

"_Where?" he asked calmly. _

"_On a trip. Mission. Whatever."_

"_Where?" Charlie repeated. _

"_The Far East." _

_Sighing heavily, Charlie picked up the teacup and turned it over. Yep. Sure enough, there it was. "You want to go, though," he said gently._

"_I... I... fuck," Harry said, slamming his hands down on the table. "This is so fucking unfair."_

"_Is Ron going?"_

"_Yeah. And Neville. And Padma Patil."_

"_Wow. That's like, half of your training group."_

"_Don't, Charlie," Harry said, shaking his head. "Don't be nice or I'm going to break down."_

"_Okay. How long until you go?"_

"_Two weeks."_

"_And how long will you be gone for?"_

_Harry took a deep breath and blew it out in a long huff. With his fingers in his hair - something Charlie recognised as a sign of frustration rather than distress - he said: "A year. Maybe more."_

_To that confession, something lodged itself in Charlie's sternum. It was hot and hard and uncomfortable, pressing in until he felt sick and dizzy. "Oh."_

"_Yeah. Fucking 'oh'."_

"_I'll miss you."_

_Later, when they woke up, Charlie rolled Harry over and curled around his body. Despite being the shorter partner by about four inches, Charlie was broader, his arms stronger and torso wider. It meant that while enfolded in those strong arms, Harry always felt safe. _

"_I don't want you to wait for me again," Charlie whispered, his breath warm on Harry's shoulder._

"_What do you mean?"_

"_We've only been sleeping together for a few weeks. I can't ask you to wait for me this time. If we promise to be faithful for the next year... or however long, one or the other of us will end up cheating. Be faithful to me here-" he flattened his hand over Harry' s chest, "and the rest doesn't matter."_

"_You're telling me to go fuck other people." Harry's voice held the weight of his incredulity. _

"_I'm telling you to go and live your life, Harry. You've waited for me already, not knowing if I'd be there when you came back. This time I'm telling you I'll be here, I'll still be here when you get home, but whatever happens when you're on the other side of the world to me doesn't matter."_

_It took Harry a while to absorb this, his fingers playing over the back of the hand that was still pressed over his heart. _

"_I want you to have me before I go. I want you to be my first."_

_Charlie's lips stretched into a smile as they pressed into the back of Harry's neck. "I'll be your first... when you get home."_

"_Oh, that's so unfair!" Harry exclaimed as he rolled over. His outburst finally drew a laugh from Charlie. _

"_Is it?" Charlie rearranged himself on the bed so they were practically nose to nose. _

_Recognition rearranged Harry's features. "Oh. You don't want anyone else to have me."_

_A light kiss confirmed his statement. _

"_When you get home."_

"_And for now?"_

_Charlie rolled over again, braced his forearms on the bed, spread his knees wide and rocked his hips back. Looking back over his shoulder, he raised an eyebrow in a suggestive invitation._

"_Yeah, I think I can just about manage that," Harry murmured. Then he stopped thinking._


	15. fifteen

Maybe Charlie had known it had been exactly six weeks since the accident, or maybe he didn't. But either way, he'd still gone to work that morning. The date seemed to mock Harry as he absently flew around the house that had become progressively smaller to him.

He was confident at new heights now and had experimented flying in the traditional position - with one leg either side of the broomstick. He could do it, but had trouble locking his legs back for optimal speed and precision on the broom.

Flying side-saddle made him feel like a girl but far less like an invalid than, say, a wheelchair would have. They had discussed the possibility of bringing a Muggle wheelchair into the house but it was nearly impossible; Charlie's home was built on the side of a hill and as such, was made of lots of different levels and steps up and down. A wheelchair wouldn't be able to navigate the house in the same way he could by flying.

Although Harry received post, mostly from Molly, but some from his friends, too, he hadn't had any visitors yet and guessed that this was Charlie's doing. He was pretty confident that it was taking some magnificent force to stop Molly being there from dawn 'til dusk, cooking and cleaning and _fussing_ over him until he just about lost his mind.

So when the Floo signalled a request for entry it made Harry almost jump out of his skin. He recognised Hermione's magical signature and let her through immediately; it was only with the sight of his friend that he realised how much he had missed her.

No one had been particularly surprised when a young Hermione Granger had scaled the ranks in the Ministry of Magic at a previously unprecedented and unexpected rate. From a junior in the Minister's own office to head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, the respect and impact of her work resonated through the wizarding world. Harry had stopped being impressed by Hermione's skill at multitasking when he was about twelve years old, or so he'd thought until she managed to smoothly control not only her department and career, but her children and marriage as well.

Now, stepping from the fireplace in a stylish and crisp grey pencil skirt, voluminous white blouse and loose pale blue robes with her hair tied back in a knot at one side of her neck, she was part professional, part mother, and still the same girl he'd always known. This Hermione might look elegant and professional but Harry knew she carried photos of her children with her wherever she went and wore a tattoo on her left hipbone that he, Ron and Luna had talked her into getting one Saturday in June.

"Hi," Harry said weakly, then she was kicking off her shoes and rushing towards him, enveloping him in a hug and burying her face in his shoulder.

"I missed you!" she wailed.

This was their relationship - raw and undignified, never afraid of showing what they meant to each other.

"Missed you too," Harry mumbled. "Come on. I'll make tea."

xXx

"So, how are you doing?" Hermione asked when they were finally sat at the kitchen table with tea and the good biscuits.

"Okay," Harry said, shrugging. "I have to re-learn how to do nearly everything, and I get tired easily, but okay."

She nodded. "That's understandable, you know, that it takes time for you to get better."

"What's going on in the world?" Harry asked. "Charlie doesn't get a newspaper. Not a British one, anyway."

"A lot of people are worried about you," Hermione said. "It's been a big thing in the papers but they're either respecting your privacy or they really don't know where you are. He's keeping you well hidden."

"It's not like that," Harry said, his hackles rising at the implication. "Charlie's just protecting me. The last thing I want is reporters at the fucking door."

"I know," she soothed. "How are you two getting on?"

Harry ducked his head. "It's nice, I suppose. Being with him all the time. Is Molly suspicious?"

"I'm not sure," Hermione said with a grimace. "She's been chomping at the bit to come over here but we're working on calming her down."

"She writes nearly every other day."

"And that's her being restrained," Hermione said, grinning. "Anyway. I came here to talk to you about something. I was thinking..."

"Why am I not surprised?" Harry interrupted. Hermione ignored him.

"And even though the department are doing all they can to try and find out what curse it was that you were hit with, they're still swamped at the moment. So I thought we could do it ourselves."

"Research?" Harry said, an old, but familiar sensation settling in his stomach at the prospect.

"Yes. Lots and lots of research. If we know what the curse is then we can look into ways of breaking it. No one knows more about your symptoms than you, and no one has better access to resources than me. "

She wasn't being smug. She was just being right, as usual.

"I also thought," Hermione said, growing quiet and setting down the coconut cream she had been gesticulating wildly with. "Well. A long time ago you and Ron were talking about learning how to become Animagi."

Harry's mouth dropped open a little bit. "Could I _walk _ as an Animagus?"

"I don't know," Hermione said quickly. "That's why we need to do the research. It depends on whether the curse affects your muscles, or your magic, or your skeletal system; if it's something that's attached to you in this form, or a part of your physicality. If it's your magic then changing your magical form from a wizard to an animal may negate the details of the curse. If it's attached to your body then we need to know what part. If you change that part of your body, such as when morphing into an animal form, then again you might lose the curse in the transformation."

"That's incredible," Harry murmured.

"There are more things to consider," Hermione continued. "Like what animal form you want to take, for example. I have a theory that if you took a non-mammal form - a bird or a fish or an insect or a magical creature, then it's less likely that the curse will stay within your physicality."

"Because there's fewer body parts in common," he said.

"Exactly. The entire skeletal system of a bird is different to that of a mammal, so if the curse is contained therein, by removing that part of your body which is basically what you'd be doing, you can lose the curse. That's why bird and fish and insect Animagi are so much more uncommon though - they're a lot harder to perform.

"But," she added, "If I know you, and I think I do, you're going to want your Animagus form to be either a stag or a dog. Your dad and Sirius certainly knew that mammalian Animagi are easier to do."

"Easier, but still not easy."

"Right."

"I thought you couldn't choose your Animagus?"

Hermione sighed deeply and picked up her biscuit again. "Oh Harry, it's complicated."

"Come on, you're the head of the bloody department," Harry said, teasing her.

"Okay." She finished her biscuit while she thought. "I suppose it's sort of like the Sorting Hat. It is capable, and likely to make decisions on its own, however it can take the person's preferences into consideration if necessary."

Harry, not having ever told his friends about the Sorting Hat's debate whether to place him in Gryffindor or Slytherin, felt more than slightly sick and suspicious at her words.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you know that I was nearly a Hatstall."

"A what?"

Hermione sighed and Harry knew that this was another one of those moments that could have been avoided by his reading Hogwarts: A History about fifteen years ago.

"A Hatstall. It happens very rarely, but it's when the Sorting Hat takes more than five minutes to Sort a student into one house or another. It took four minutes and thirteen seconds to decide whether to make me a Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. They say that if a student has a preference then the Sorting Hat can take that into consideration when placing them."

"And you think the Animagus process is the same?"

"Probably," Hermione conceded, hiding her grin. "No one really knows. Will you try it?"

Without a moment's hesitation, and meaning every word from the bottom of his fucking heart, Harry replied: "What have I got to lose?"

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><p><em>AN: Is there some kind of award for being the first person to include Pottermore exclusive content in a story? If so, I want it!  
>(p.s. How do you like Hermione?)<em>


	16. sixteen

_A/N: Apologies for my general shiteness and lack of review replies. I'm off to do that right now.  
>This chapter was written in one 4 minute and 47 second long session, while listening to the song 'Touch Me' from Spring Awakening (if you care about these sorts of things, it's available on youtube. Who knows if it actually adds anything to the reading experience. It certainly added to the writing experience!) <em>

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><p><em>October 2000<em>

_It was hot and dark and Harry missed him more than he knew it possible to miss another person. He ached for Charlie in a way he'd never ached before, and the ache was creating bright, vivid, consuming dreams._

_Harry dreamed of their first time. _

_How Charlie had told him just to enjoy it and not worry about how quickly he lasted, and how the tightness felt like it was going to choke him and he came within minutes, embarrassed. Charlie had let Harry hold him, spooning, until Harry got hard again._

"_Like this?" Harry had whispered when he noticed Charlie was touching himself. _

_The second time was slower with twined fingers and low grunts and gasps for breath. He found pleasure, the second time, in the feel of skin under his fingers and lips, the sounds his partner made, the smell and the noise and the feel of it all. Charlie had told him, later, that it didn't hurt the second time, it just felt right._

_Harry dreamed of Hogwarts, and breathless stolen orgasms in the shower where the evidence was washed down the drain. And trying to be quiet as he found his release with Ron in the next bed over at Grimmauld Place, or doing it for comfort and having to keep quiet because there was only a thin sheet of tent fabric separating him from Hermione in a field in the Cotswolds somewhere._

_Harry dreamed of Charlie taking his virginity. He dreamed of looking up into the other man's eyes, feeling himself being split open and filled, clutching strong arms for reassurance and grounding. Of watching strange, unfamiliar words fall from the lips of his lover. _

_He dreamed while twisted up in his bedsheets, sweating from the heat, dreamed of feeling another body laying on top of his own, the familiar height and weight and sturdiness, the smell and taste and feel of the man that had become everything to him._

_Harry dreamed, and slept on._


	17. seventeen

_A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. I've had a sexy Australian staying with me... and distracting me. *ahem*_

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><p>Charlie arrived home just as Harry was trying to persuade Hermione to stay for dinner.<p>

"Ron can pick the kids up, come on - oh," he said, then broke into a grin. "Hi."

"Hi," Charlie said back, crossing from where he'd paused at the doorway to kiss Harry lightly on the lips. "Hey, Hermione. How are you?"

"Good," she said. "And leaving."

"Can't you stay for dinner?" Charlie asked, making her laugh.

"No. I have to go and pick the kids up then feed my family. However much I might like to stay and play..."

"Okay," he acquiesced. "Another time, then? Get Mum to take the kids for the night and bring Ron over. Harry can cook."

"Oi," Harry scolded him, good naturedly. "It was good to see you, Hermione."

"You too," she said and hugged him tightly. "I'll get some books sent over to you."

"Thanks."

She let herself out through the Floo, throwing a sassy smile at them over her shoulder before declaring 'Granger- Weasley Household' and disappearing in a rush of green flames. As the fire ebbed back to its normal state, Harry wrapped his hand around the back of Charlie's neck and tugged him down into another, slower kiss.

"Were we expecting company?" Charlie asked as they broke and Harry huffed.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist."

"I'm not!"

"She just wanted to talk to me. She wants me to do research into the curse and figure out if we can reverse it."

"That sounds good."

Harry pushed his chair back from the kitchen table and hauled himself onto the Firebolt.

"Tea?" he asked.

"Please. How are the pressure cuffs working for you?"

"Good," Harry said. He made the two mugs of tea but only carried his own back to the table. He'd learned his lesson there. "It aches sometimes but it's better than the cramps."

In bed that night, Harry wasn't sure why he didn't mention the possibility of an Animagus to Charlie. His partner would undoubtedly be supportive, just as he was supportive of everything that Harry had done over the years. Including all of the stupid and reckless stuff.

Wizards just didn't want to hear that bungee jumping was safe.

Ironically, Luna was the only one with balls enough to try it with him.

Harry wondered with a sleepy mind if they let crippled people bungee jump and fell asleep with the memory of the wind roaring in his ears.

xXx

A pile of books was delivered through the Floo the next morning. Harry knew this because Charlie stumbled over them on his way to the kitchen to make coffee for them both and swore as he stubbed his toe on a larger volume.

Harry would never, ever admit it but he was itching to get started on the research that Hermione had proposed. It was something proactive that he could do to help himself... the first few months of living in this new body had been consumed with relearning his day to day routine, how to do the things he'd taken for granted over the years. The things everyone takes for granted until they're taken away.

Those were things he needed to learn to be able to survive, though. This was different... it was hard to put his finger on how, but the chance that he could find the cure to his condition himself was something that was giving him the faintest glimmers of something that could maybe be called hope.

He waited until Charlie had left for work before transferring the books over to the library area of the house. There was a large bureau in the corner that neither he or Charlie seemed to use; after looking through a few of the drawers he concluded that this was where his partner must sit to do boring things like pay his bills and file his paperwork.

The roll- top desk was in a horrible corner for working, though. Harry frowned at it and flew back a few feet, then pulled his wand from his pocket.

"_Wingardium Leviosa."_

It was only moved a few feet, but in its new position Harry could see out over the top to look at the mountains where Charlie worked. With a mug of tea, half a packet of biscuits and a grim sense of determination, Harry sat down at the extraordinarily comfortable desk chair and cracked open the first tome.

To give himself credit, it was at least half an hour before he started thumping his head against the edge of the desk. There was a reason why he hated homework in school, and why, when the chance was offered to him, he went straight to work for Kingsley's new Ministry rather than returning to Hogwarts to sit his NEWTs.

All the good intentions in the world didn't change the fact that he was horrible at studying and that this topic in particular - the origins of curses - was incredibly dull. His eyes flickered over the other titles that were piled on the desk, not that they looked any more appetising. His inner Hermione - the one who often surfaced when he had assignments to hand in to the Head of Magical Law enforcement or a paper to submit to the Minister - was frowning at him.

Harry understood that the practical could not be achieved unless his understanding of the theory was solid. And yet... he was bored to death.

By lunchtime he had one hell of a headache and turned the radio on as he made a sandwich and a large glass of cold juice in an attempt to quell it. He was making notes as he battled through the chapters to make sure he was understanding everything and it pained him to admit that certain facts were starting to stick to the outside of his brain.

The wards around the house signalled that Charlie was on his way back as Harry took a sip of juice. Maybe he was going to take his lunch break at home - it wasn't unusual, but most of the time Charlie worked too far away to make it practical for him to Apparate or fly home.

"Hi," Harry called out as Charlie opened the door. "I'm in the kitchen."

"Be there in a minute," Charlie replied and headed straight for the bedroom. Harry's eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Naturally, Harry followed him.

Charlie was standing at the window, his shirt and outer robes burnt and smoking; the damage seemed to be focused on his left shoulder.

"Jesus, Charlie, what the hell happened?"

"It's stupid," Charlie muttered. "One of my breeding females hatched overnight. I just got too close trying to count how many live births she had. Not the first time."

Harry watched, trying not to worry too much as Charlie carefully removed the charred shirt from his chest. The burn extended from his elbow to his neck and across most of his chest, red in places, blistered or black in others.

"Can I do anything?" Harry offered, feeling helpless.

"There's some ointment in the bathroom. Blue stuff. And I'll need to brew something later so I can sleep tonight."

"I can do that for you."

Charlie nodded and winced in pain as he pulled the skin on his neck tight with the motion.

Although Harry knew that this type of injury was par for the course with Charlie's job, and over the years he'd seen plenty of burns marking the freckled skin, he still found his heart beating in his throat as he dug through the bathroom cabinet for the blue burn ointment. When he returned to the bedroom Charlie was shirtless in front of the mirror and casting another charm to ease the pain.

His job was too - _had been_ - he corrected himself... Being an Auror was dangerous work too. He'd had plenty of scrapes over the years; broken bones, minor curses and hexes, constant back problems that had plagued him since he took a nasty fall in his early twenties.

Still, this was different. He didn't like seeing Charlie in pain.

"Here," Harry said, holding out the bottle.

"Thanks."

"Do you need help with your shoes?"

Charlie swallowed and nodded again, a short, jerky motion. "That would be good."

After being the person in need of help for so many weeks now, this simple act of helping someone else was strangely empowering. Harry nudged Charlie back to sit on the edge of the bed as he dabbed the ointment over his skin, a faint blue smoke rising from the edge of the wound. The dragon- hide boots were laced tightly over Charlie's ankles and Harry was forced to lower the Firebolt all the way to the floor to be able to take the first booted foot in his lap to work the laces loose.

"Do you need anything else?" Harry asked as he set the boots down at the end of the bed.

"No. Thanks. Might just lie down for a while."

Harry purposefully joined him on the wrong side of the bed so he could get a closer look at the burn. It would heal just fine, but would probably hurt like a bitch in the meantime.

"So. Did you count all of them?"

Charlie snorted with laughter. "Yes. Four. That's a good hatch."

"Good."

"How about you? How was your studying?"

"Don't ask."

"That bad?"

"Worse."

Charlie turned his head on the pillow. Harry was on his side, his arm propping up his chin, studying his partner for signs of excessive discomfort. He smiled a little at the eye contact.

"I'm glad you're here, Harry."

"Me too."


	18. eighteen

_January 2001_

_There was moisture running down the black paint on the wall of the club, dampening the back of the linen shirt that Harry was wearing. He could feel the thumping beat of the music through the floor, through the wall, through his very skin; it blended with the beat of his heart and accelerated its natural rhythm._

_He knew that the moisture was condensation and sweat from all the men around him, men on their knees, men sucking, men fucking, men being fucked. Harry was never fucked. He never sucked. _

_He was not impartial to someone else sucking him, though._

_It was such a cliché and he knew it. The guy who had taken his cock down his throat was young. Beautiful. And maybe a wonderful person on the inside, someone who wouldn't go back to his mates and bragged that he got to suck the famous Harry Potter's cock. Harry Potter couldn't give a fuck. It wasn't that he didn't want to. But he couldn't._

_Because his heart... his heart was far away. It was locked up somewhere tight where no one else could get close, not close enough to even see it, let alone touch it._

_Ron called him a whore. Neville called him a lucky bastard._

_It had been a long year and a really fascinating one. Their journey had taken them all over China and Tibet, tracing magical artefacts that had been stolen and traded on the black market. It was a huge operation of several teams taking down the smuggling ring but Harry had never felt like he'd been able to give it his everything._

_The guy who was sucking him swallowed his cock, tongue and mouth tightening to draw Harry's orgasm out of him. His fingers tightened around soft strands of hair - a warning - and came hard. He rubbed his thumb over the corner of the guy's mouth, gathering up a bead of come that had escaped and pushing it over a plump bottom lip, where it was met with a wet tongue._

_His left eyelid dropped into a wink and he smirked as he rebuttoned his dark, expensive jeans and left as silently as he came. _

_There had been opportunities for him to go home for a weekend like everyone else had at some point or another, visiting families or friends or partners. But Harry hadn't. The thought of going back to Charlie and then having to leave again a few days later... no. He couldn't do that. _

_However repugnant Charlie's proposal had been at first, it was an undeniable relief to be able to get some relief. There were gay bars around and Harry took full advantage of dark, discreet back rooms and a cab back to the flat he shared with Ron, often while his best friend slept. _

_Tonight, when he slipped his key in the door, Ron was awake. Waiting for him._

"_Where've you been?" Ron muttered. "It's two in the fucking morning." _

_Harry raised his eyebrows and shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it carelessly over the back of the sofa. It was a clear message - don't ask if you don't want to hear the answer._

_Ron groaned and rubbed his hands over his face._

"_I really wish you wouldn't."_

"_Get my dick sucked? Come on. Give me a break. I'm not cheating."_

"_I know, I know. I swear, you get more and more like Sirius every day."_

"_I'm taking that as a compliment."_

_Harry crossed to the small kitchen and pulled out a bottle of the Muggle beer he favoured, holding one up in offer to Ron, who shook his head. Harry popped the top and sat on the counter as he took the first pull._

"_Heathcote called."_

"_Oh?" Harry said._

"_Our replacements arrive on Wednesday. We train them for two weeks then we get to go home."_

_The bottle was set down on the counter next to Harry's thigh with supreme care._

"_If you're shitting me I'm going to break your fucking face."_

"_If Hermione hears you speaking like that she'd slap yours. I'm not shitting you. Make plans."_

_Harry smirked and necked the last of his bottle. _

"_Thanks," he said and hopped down off the counter. _

_Ron didn't need to know he already had plans - rather specific ones. But then again, Ron always had been slightly squeamish at the subject of Harry's dick and his brother's ass... there was no reason to think he'd be any more receptive to the idea of the subject reversed._

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><p><em>AN: Harry in this chapter is equal parts Sirius Black, Brian Kinney, and my own little messed up version of the character. Dark!Harry is a lot of fun._


	19. nineteen

It was raining so hard the sky had turned gray and all the world beyond the windows was a wet blur of green. This was when Harry loved Charlie's house; they felt miles from anywhere, enclosed and alone, the rugged nature surrounding them harsh and wild. No one to interrupt them. No one for miles.

They laid in bed, still sweaty and aching with a fire warming the air as the wind whipped at the side of the house.

"We can stay here forever. Get married and be respectable and have babies."

Charlie smiled into the curve of Harry's neck. "Aren't we respectable now?"

"Less than ten people know we're together."

"A lot more than that suspect we're together."

"Charlie."

"Harry."

Harry rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow. He sighed softly and pressed his hand against Charlie's sternum, just at the edge of where the burn was starting to fade. It had healed well.

They were very different men. More than their past or their jobs or their personalities, they were inherently incompatible. But that was what made them work. It was a case of the old adage - opposites attract, and despite all their differences when they came together, they fit. Still, it had made for some interesting arguments over the years.

"You've never wanted to get married before," Charlie said, linking their hands together on his chest. "You've never even been interested in monogamy before. So why now?"

"I'm chained to you already," Harry said. He refused to meet Charlie's eyes. "Why not make it official?"

To Harry's surprise, Charlie laughed. Not a soft little disparaging laugh, but a full, from the belly laugh. "Oh god, Harry. You're hard work sometimes."

"What?"

"You're not chained to me."

"Well, I can't exactly go down to a club and get some little twink to blow me," he said.

"Do you want one? A twink, I mean. I'm sure I can find you one if you do."

"That's not the point."

"No, sorry. The point is you want to marry me all of a sudden."

"Don't mock me."

Charlie shifted on the bed too, angling himself to look into green eyes that were just as expressive as they'd always been. Expressive and alluring. And a complete mystery. He ran his hand from Harry's naked hip up, slowly, covetously, eventually curling it under Harry's arm and around his shoulder, then leaned in to plant a kiss on his mouth.

"If you want that…" Charlie said, "If that's really going to be our life – living here, making a family together, then we have to tell my mum."

"Oh god."

Charlie pressed his lips together to contain his laugh. "I will do anything for you, Harry. Absolutely anything. Even marry you. But those are my conditions."

"She'll hate it."

"She probably already knows."

"No she bloody well doesn't." Harry sulked, tucking his head under Charlie's chin and pressing their chests together.

"When did you get so affectionate?"

"Since I need you to protect me, now," Harry said, leaning back and batting his eyelashes.

"Bullshit. But I'm not complaining. I mean it, though. She deserves to know."

"You can tell her. Would you really do it?"

"There's the difference between me and you, Harry," Charlie said as he shifted positions so he was lying with his head on Harry's chest, his arm thrown over Harry's waist, holding on tight. "You want to marry me now that you feel like all your other options have gone. And all I've ever wanted is to settle down and make you my family."

"Hang on-" Harry said, cutting him off, but Charlie shushed him back into silence.

"We had an arrangement, yeah, but it wasn't what I really _wanted._"

"This is the wrong time to be rehashing ancient history."

"I'm thirty six, Harry."

"That really is ancient."

"Oi," Charlie laughed. "Less of that, young man."

Harry was rubbing slow circles between Charlie's shoulder blades, his fingers exploring freckles and scars that had been there for years. He knew this skin, its inconsistencies and the way it felt under his hands. Touching each other was so achingly normal that even when they were disagreeing, their bodies searched for the weight of the other.

"Can I ask you something?" Charlie said as the wind caused one of the trees outside to whip against the window.

"Yeah. Of course."

"If you hadn't been hurt, would you still want to get married?"

Harry sighed heavily. "If I hadn't been hurt, I would never have got the opportunity to move in here and live with you. So I don't know."

"But it wasn't at the forefront of your mind."

"No."

"Okay."

"You know what this is to me, Charlie. You know what you are to me. There's no reason why we can't make it official now."

"Yeah, I know what I am to you. And right now I feel like the most awful piece of shit on the planet because you're hurt and hurting and everything is so hard for you, but I'm here on top of the fucking world because I get to have you every single day. All I've wanted for years is for us to be together all the time and I got what I wanted. But for me to get that you had to get hurt.

"And then you ask me to marry you and I've wanted to ask you that for years but you would have just laughed it off or said no, or it would have made things awkward between us, so I didn't. And you probably have no idea how much I want to tell you I love you, all the fucking time but you don't like that either, so I don't."

Charlie shifted on the bed, sitting up so he could look at Harry when he finished what he had to say. "So the next time you ask me to marry you, Harry Potter, you better fucking well mean it."

He leaned down and kissed Harry on the corner of his mouth, then stood and walked to the bathroom, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts.

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><p><em>AN: Do you think I can reach 200 reviews for 20,000 words? Yeah, I don't think so either. But it would be awesome.  
>I just started a new job this week, which is quite cool, but I'm not sure what my writing time will be like for the next few weeks. Please forgive me if there isn't another update for a little while? Love you all, especially my greeneyedgirly, who reads this shit against her will, just because she loves me too. <em>


	20. twenty

_A/N: PWP. GEG is going to kill me. I love you all. You're all wonderful._

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><p><em>February 2001<em>

_It was late when there was a knock on Charlie's door. _

_He was in the kitchen, rearranging the cupboards for something to occupy his mind. As he stood he glanced at the clock on the wall. He had been accurate nearly to the hour._

_When he opened the door Harry was leaning against the side of the porch, one leg casually propping himself up. His hair had grown... and so had he. Or maybe it was just the heavy dragon hide boots he was wearing. _

"_Hi," Charlie said._

"_Hi."_

"_Do you want to come in?"_

_Harry walked past him, into the vast living space. He'd only brought one small bag with him which he dumped next to the door._

"_You don't seem surprised to see me."_

"_I saw you coming," Charlie said with a dismissive shrug._

"_You... saw me."_

_This tension between them cracked and fizzled as they made mindless chatter while their bodies ached, physically ached for the closeness of the other. Charlie struggled to explain:_

"_About three weeks ago I noticed it first. There were just... signs, all over the place."_

"_Tea leaves?" Harry asked sarcastically._

"_To start with, yeah," Charlie said. "Other things too. Shapes, patterns... I wondered what that rectangle thing was until I saw you."_

_He lifted his hand and gently touched the side of Harry's new glasses. _

"_Don't tell me you actually learned something from Trelawney."_

"_I dunno. She used to tell me to look for things and I just saw them. Mum said it came from her side of the family. Apparently one of her brothers was particularly good at Divination. You know it's not a precise magic. Sometimes it just creeps up on you."_

"_That sucks. Your skills ruined my surprise."_

_Charlie smiled as he reached for Harry's waist, drawing the other man closer._

"_I don't know about that." _

_Their kiss teased with the intimacy to come, gentle, careful, but knowing... intensity and passion simmering underneath. Harry let himself be taken, tilting his head back to allow Charlie further access to his mouth, his neck. He braced his hands, gripping Charlie's forearms tightly and appreciating the tense corded muscle underneath._

"_Has anyone else touched you?" Charlie asked in a low voice, breaking the kiss and resting his forehead against Harry's. _

_Harry looked him dead in the eye. "Yes."_

"_Good," Charlie said. "I don't feel bad, now."_

"_You shouldn't have felt bad anyway. We had an agreement."_

"_That's true. Do you want something to eat? I could cook. Or order something in."_

_Harry shook his head slowly. "I've eaten."_

"_Tired?"_

"_No... Take me to bed."_

"_Are you sure?" Charlie gripped Harry's hair as he spoke, demanding a certain type of honesty that came with a delicate throb of pain._

"_Charlie," Harry said evenly. "I know what I want."_

_Harry's hair was tugged back further. "You always did," Charlie said, and closed his mouth over Harry's throat. _

_Charlie decided that Apparition was safer than attempting to walk while Harry's teeth were wrapped around his earlobe, and held the other man close to his chest while he made the short jump. They stripped with the haste and desperation of two people who needed each other on so many levels. It was physical. And emotional. And magical. _

_Tongues and fingers and the slick slide of wet lubricant, kisses and the sound of whispered endearments filled the room that Charlie already thought of as theirs, even while Harry was on the other side of the world. The missing him had been huge. Too much to bear. _

_What had started at an impatient pace slowed as Charlie's touches grew gentle, drawing soft murmurs of content and sighs of pleasure from Harry's throat as he licked and sucked at his cock... and worked two slick fingers into his ass. _

_Then he drew back with a final kiss to Harry's hipbone. "Are you ready?" _

"_Yes." He looked up into wide blue eyes and knew he'd never been more sure of anything. _

"_It's going to hurt," Charlie warned._

"_Not where it matters most."_

"_You have an answer for everything, don't you?"_

_Harry smirked. "It's a skill. Be inside me, Charlie."_

"_Okay."_

_They kissed again unhurriedly and Harry felt it, pressing against his prepared opening, then a twisting push and dull ache as he was stretched open, filled. He noticed that his arms were gripping Charlie's biceps and wondered where the sense of déjà vu came from until he remembered the dream but it was nothing like this._

_Suddenly the dream seemed incredibly one dimensional compared to this multi-faceted onslaught of feelings and pain and pleasure. Charlie kissed him, the sweetness almost aching in his chest, almost distracting from that squirming pain that was starting to blur at the edges into a new type of pleasure, one that he'd never allowed himself to explore before. _

"_Charlie," he gasped, finding his voice again._

"_Are you okay?" Charlie murmured in a low voice, his lips dangerously close to Harry's ear. He nipped at the soft lobe, then trailed teasing kisses along the side of his neck. "Harry."_

"_Yeah," Harry said. Then again: "Yes."_

_The 'yes' was different to the 'yeah'; yes was an affirmation, a plea, a cry for more, please, I need it. _

"_Can I move?" Charlie asked, and Harry realised that this wasn't it. That this feeling of being full of his boyfriend's cock was about to get even better, and he only nodded against the side of Charlie's neck, afraid that he wouldn't know the words to take things further. _

_Harry held his breath as Charlie pulled back and cried out as he pushed back in. He hated feeling so vulnerable, knowing that his safety and pleasure was in the hands of someone else. He rarely let that happen._

_But at the same time this was the man he had wanted for so long. He trusted Charlie Weasley more than pretty much any other person in the whole world. And, despite all his reservations, it actually felt quite good. _

_When his fingers were wrapped in Charlie's he smiled against the other man's kisses and held on tight; then Charlie moved his hand, stroking down his own body until he encouraged Harry to take hold of his own cock. Only then did he recognise the move as one of his own, and a silent signal from Charlie that he was close. _

_It was only when his fist closed around his cock that Harry realised how hard he was... and that it probably wouldn't take that long to get him off either. It seemed instinctive to him to match the movement of his hand with the strokes of Charlie's cock in his ass; slow, measured strokes that somehow hit all the right spots at the same time. _

"_Harry," Charlie said in a low voice. "Harry, I-"_

_Harry cut him off with a kiss that bordered on violent, swallowing the words that he was sure Charlie was about to say. Words that he just couldn't hear. Not yet._

_His body trembled as his balls drew up tight and he orgasmed with a force he'd barely felt before, spilling hard between their stomachs._

"_Oh my god," he gasped as another tremor shook his body and he wrapped his arms tightly around Charlie's back, holding on._

"_I'm nearly there," Charlie said with a voice straining with tension. "Do you want me to stop?"_

"_No," Harry whispered. "I want it inside me."_

"_Fuck, Harry..."_

_The last few moments were uncomfortable, only because he was so sensitive after his monumental orgasm. Still, it was worth it when Charlie reared back on his arms and threw his head back as he came, exposing the long line of his throat and the few, faint bruises that Harry had left there. _

_Charlie collapsed to Harry's side, breathing hard but still finding the breath to leave little kisses on his arm and shoulder. Smiling, Harry tilted his head to insist those kisses fell on his lips instead, and wandlessly, wordlessly levitated the blanket up over them both. _

"_Are you okay?" Charlie asked as Harry lifted his arm, making room for Charlie to lay his head down on his chest._

"_I'm better now," Harry said and threaded his fingers through soft, slightly too long red hair. "I think I'm going to sleep better tonight than I have for the past year."_

"_Yeah," Charlie said softly. "Me too. Harry?"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_I'm glad you're home."_

_Harry hesitated for a moment, wanting to protest that he wasn't home, not yet, then changed his mind._

"_Me too."_


	21. twenty one

_A/N: This one is for VAVikingGirl who asked me to write quicker. She's actually be asking me to write quicker since I was writing This Mortal Life all those years ago, so I'm used to her nagging by now. I still love hearing it though!_

* * *

><p>Christmas was, as it had always been, the most hectic and mad and wonderful time to be part of the Weasley family. Even if he wasn't technically one of the family. And he couldn't deny that it was nice to be out of the same house he'd been imprisoned in for the past few months.<p>

However, the drawbacks were severe.

When he was with Charlie, Harry had got to a point where sometimes, for brief moments, he forgot all about his disability. They had their routine and their moments of spontaneity, but here, he was reminded of it with every sympathetic glance, every offer of help that he didn't need, whilst being treated like an invalid or worse, a child.

He'd been left with a child, Bill's son, to be precise. Louis had blown spit bubbles at him for twenty minutes then had fallen asleep and was now snoring in his arms. Harry didn't mind all that much. There were worse things he could have been given. Like Great Aunt Muriel, who insisted on referring to him as 'the cripple' even when he was within full hearing distance. Miserable old hag.

In an ironic twist, he and Charlie were sharing a bedroom (and therefore, a bed). The house was full almost to bursting point and there just wasn't room for him to have a bed of his own, Molly had explained with wringing hands and an apologetic expression. It was a small bed so they slept close every night. Charlie didn't mind at all.

The kitchen was full of swirling steam and copper pots, the scents and sounds of one woman preparing a feast.

"Mum," Charlie said, catching his mother by the wrist as she added salt to a boiling pot.

"Oh, Charlie dear, would you grab the pancetta from the fridge for me please?"

He found a small dish of bacon and decided he wasn't going to ask where it was going. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

"Right now? I'm sort of busy."

"Okay." He turned to leave.

"Charlie, wait." She was frowning, a spatula gripped in her hand, which was bunched on her hip. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "Nothing."

Molly frowned for another moment, then cast a stasis spell over everything in her kitchen. Water stopped mid boil, simmering liquids stilled and the crackling meat froze, one piece hovering just over the surface of the pan.

"Come on outside for a moment," she told him.

"But the food-"

"Can wait. Come on."

They sat on the kitchen step in the frigid December air, a cushioning charm beneath them and a weak warming charm working hard to keep the chill away. For a few minutes neither spoke.

"I've already asked you if something was wrong," Molly started. "So I won't again."

"There really isn't anything wrong."

"Okay. Is there a reason why I'm sat outside in the cold in my advanced years?"

"Because you wouldn't leave it alone?" Charlie muttered, picking at the knee of his jeans.

Molly hit him around the back of his head. "Not too old…" she warned him with a disapproving spatula.

"Ow, Mum, okay," he grumbled.

"Just tell me, Charlie," she said gently, her voice completely at odds with her fit of violence.

"Harry and I are in a relationship."

Silence.

"Well," Molly said eventually. "Well. Oh, Charlie."

"What?"

"I thought you were going to tell me you'd met someone. But not this. Not this, Charlie."

"Is there something wrong with Harry?"

"Of course there is!" she exclaimed. "I'm sorry but I just can't condone you taking advantage of him... He's not himself, Charlie, it's not right, he's ill…"

"Mum, we've been together for ten years."

Molly surveyed her son with an expression that suggested to Charlie that he may, indeed, have grown a second head. "What?"

"We've been together for a long time. That's why I came to get him when he got hurt."

"I don't understand."

Charlie sighed. It was harder than he'd anticipated. It was time for full disclosure.

"Harry and I… we don't get to see each other all the time. Before the accident we'd never lived together. We weren't exclusive."

"You mean you were unfaithful?"

"No," Charlie said, trying desperately to remain calm. "We both dated other people by mutual agreement." Molly didn't say anything else, so he continued. "Harry wants to be more open about our relationship now, you know, now that we've decided to be more committed to each other. It was important to us both that you know."

"So you're… what? Lovers? Boyfriends?"

"He's my… he's my partner, Mum."

"Your partner."

"Yes."

She nodded. "Partners. Okay." She was silent for a few moments, then sighed heavily. "Will you give me some time? A few days?"

"Of course. And you should probably know that I have a tattoo."

Molly closed her eyes and shook her head "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."

"Okay."

Molly stood then, pressed a kiss to the top of his head and went back in to her kitchen. Charlie stayed outside, recasting his warming charm and sending funny little spells across the lawn, wondering what they'd hit and affect.

When the air around him sizzled and popped, he only just reacted in time to catch Harry as he Apparated out onto the step.

"What the fuck are you doing!" Charlie exclaimed. Harry grabbed at Charlie's shoulders and shuddered against the cold, then let Charlie lower him down to sit on the step too.

"I couldn't get out here without coming through the kitchen."

"What if I'd moved? You could kill yourself Apparating, you should know that."

Charlie was shaken, wanting to simultaneously smack and kiss the impetuous, ridiculous man.

"I knew you'd catch me," Harry said in a soft voice. "So what happened with mother?"

"She needs some time."

"We can give her that," Harry said. Charlie still looked as if something was terribly wrong, somehow. Knowing only one way that that could be fixed, Harry lifted his fingers to angle Charlie's jaw and pressed warm lips against cold ones. Charlie sighed into the kiss, licking at Harry's tongue and, while being deliciously distracted, didn't notice the twitch of a gingham curtain at the window.


	22. twenty two

_A/N: NaNoWriMo starts on Tuesday! I'm so excited. I'm going to be working on another M/M romance and I'm already so, so in love with my male protagonist. His name is Rob. Need I say more? Hope you like the chapter. I'll update again as soon as I can._

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><p><em>February 2001<em>

_Charlie woke early the next morning, after going to bed considerably earlier than usual the night before. Harry was still sleeping but that was fine, it gave Charlie time to get a better look at some of the ways he had changed in the past year. _

_In all the time that they had been friends, or lovers, Charlie had never seen the slightly haunted look disappear from Harry's distinctive green eyes. Even in sleep, his face seemed to hold the fear of his childhood written into his features. _

_Still, the boy was a man now, there was no denying that. And a man who had changed so much in the years since the end of the war... to someone, many had argued, who was almost unrecognisable from the quiet, nerdy seventeen year old who had defeated one of the most powerful Dark Lords of all time. _

_All Charlie saw were walls. Lots and lots of walls that were put up out of necessity, because after he became the Boy Who Lived Again the public considered him more their property than they ever had before. He had no privacy. And were it not for the close circle of friends and tight, tight family unit of the Weasleys, it was scary to think what might have happened to him. _

_In the still morning night Charlie gathered his broken, yet still perfect boy up in his arms and allowed himself to doze. _

_xXx_

_Charlie woke again later with Harry's face squished up to his chest. He tried not to move too much as he preserved the image to his memory; Harry's nose was pushed up to one side, he was drooling and snoring. _

_Unable to keep it in any longer, Charlie laughed softly, and Harry started to wake up. He threw his arm over Charlie's waist and snuggled again, rubbing his face against Charlie's stomach and hummed deep in his chest._

"_Mornin', Charlie."_

"_How do you know it's Charlie?"_

_Harry licked his lips and blinked slowly as he looked up, his eyes struggling to focus. "'Cos you smell like you," Harry said. "And because you're the only one I ever wake up with."_

_For some reason this little confession was suddenly the most romantic thing that Harry had ever said and Charlie treasured it appropriately. He ran his fingers through Harry's messy hair and wriggled down on the bed until they were nose to nose, so Harry could see him without his glasses. _

"_Thank you for last night," Harry said and pulled Charlie closer to his chest. _

"_Really?"_

"_Mm. It was good. I've never been that close to anyone before."_

_Charlie stroked the hair back from Harry's head and ran his thumb over the scar there. _

"_I don't think I have either."_

"_You've had all of me, you know. My first kiss, my first fuck... my virginity."_

"_You have a piece of me I've never given to anyone else, too."_

_Harry nodded. "I know. I'm sorry about... you know. Saying it."_

"_As long as you know it's there."_

"_Yeah. I know."_


	23. twenty three

_And you are not alone in this  
>You are not alone in this.<br>As brothers we will stand we'll hold your hand -  
>hold your hand.<br>- Mumford & Sons, 'Timshel'_

They left the day after Christmas, Harry overwhelmed, Charlie stressed. Their presence wouldn't be missed amongst all the Weasley children and grandchildren who demanded far much more time and attention than the quiet couple in the corner.

Charlie used the excuse of mother dragons and infant hatchlings and his work, and Harry made no excuse at all but was loaded up with jumpers and mince pies and cake and a look of such sorrow and concern from Molly that he enfolded her in a hug.

"It's okay," he whispered to her, breaking his silent promise to himself that he wouldn't get involved. "We're good together, Molly."

"I know," she said and patted his head. "I know."

The vast solitude of Charlie's home was a welcome change and Harry felt the relief as a tangible relaxation in his shoulders. The cat seemed to be punishing them and refused to join in the cuddles on the sofa.

That night they teased each other to climax with exploring fingers and lips and tongues, their voices purposefully loud and echoing through the vastness of Charlie's wide, spacious home. Then they slept, deliciously naked, long limbs tangled together.

"Don't forget the twins are coming over today."

Charlie's voice was low , his lips close to Harry's neck in an attempt to coax the man from sleep.

"Mm," Harry hummed. "'Kay."

"That means you need to get up at some point."

"I'm up," Harry said, stretching. He grabbed Charlie's hand and pressed it against his groin. "Look. Up."

Charlie laughed and kissed him wetly on the cheek with a loud smack. "No time. Dragons to see to."

Harry flipped him a middle finger but smiled as he did it and rolled around on Charlie's side of the bed for another half an hour before grabbing his Firebolt to take him to the shower.

As he dressed Harry wondered, not for the first time, just how much more difficult his life would be if he was disabled and a Muggle. It wasn't just his dependence on the Firebolt... even things like getting dressed would be virtually impossible.

Despite his magical assistance, his daily routine was still much harder than it was before. And everything depended on his routine: shower, clothes, breakfast, washing up. Then studying. Then lunch... then more studying.

Except the twins coming over was an excuse not to even open Hermione's books when he was done with lunch and instead he stretched out on the sofa with the cat who'd forgiven him and contemplated a nap, until the Floo sounded.

The twins were not ones to stand on ceremony and let themselves through without invitation. George was carrying what looked like a pile of sticks in his hands and Harry looked at him with a fair amount of confusion.

"They're splints," Fred explained. "Alright, Harry?"

"Yeah. Not bad, thanks. Splints for what?"

"We think," George said, "That they might help you walk."

Harry's mouth dropped open. "Oh fuck."

"We don't know yet," Fred hurried to add. "We've been testing them out ourselves and it hasn't really been that easy."

"How... what..." Harry tried to ask.

George shrugged. "We invent stuff, mate. That's what we do. And this sounded like a good challenge."

"How do I get them on?"

Dumping the splints on the sofa, George grimaced and rolled his shoulders. "It's not particularly easy," he said. "It helps if you take your jeans off..."

Since the accident, the only one who had seen Harry truly vulnerable was Charlie, and to a lesser extent, Ron and Hermione. He was forced to ignore the pooling sickness in his belly at being totally at the mercy of the Weasley twins, not that they seemed to think anything of seeing him in his boxers and a t- shirt. They'd shared the showers after Quidditch practice enough not to be self conscious in that regard, but still...

It took nearly half an hour of rearranging the sweet smelling wood (Harry guessed that the magic applied to it was making it smell that way) and leather straps so that they were comfortable. Harry was required to lay back on the floor so he was flat, although after a while he propped himself up on his elbows so he could watch Fred and George work.

"When we've got them sorted, you should be able to put them on yourself," Fred explained. He pushed his hair back from his forehead with his arm. "Nearly there, mate. We had to guess a bit at how tall you are so there's some adjusting to do."

There could be little doubt that this invention went way above exploding toilet seats and Skiving Snackboxes in terms of its practical usage, and as he laid on the floor, Harry realised how very much he'd underestimated Charlie's brothers. For a long time he'd considered himself a part of the Weasley family; on the fringe of it, maybe, but still a part of it. But this went above and beyond anything he could have asked of them.

Over his legs, the twins exchanged a nod. "Ready?" George asked.

Harry was unceremoniously hauled to his feet. He was very aware that all his weight was currently resting on Fred and George's shoulders, they had an arm each wrapped around his waist to steady him.

The splints held his legs straight from hip to knee and knee to ankle with a gap in the middle for him to be able to bend his knees. They responded to his movements in a way that seemed to be a cross between the intuitiveness of his broomstick and the relationship he had with his wand. Still, it took both twins bracing him either side for Harry to try to lift one leg and replace his weight on it.

"Brace your stomach muscles," Fred advised. "Try and keep yourself upright."

It was easy enough advice to suggest - not so easy to follow. After months of being resigned to spending most of his time sitting down, the mere act of standing was daunting. All the muscles in his legs seemed to be screaming in protest at their sudden usage after so much time spent idle.

Bit by bit, the twins moved so they were supporting his upper arms, then his forearms, then holding his hands.

"Fuck," Harry whispered, causing Fred to snort with amusement.

"You're doing great," George said encouragingly. "Try taking a step."

Just then, the front door banged.

"Harry!" Charlie yelled.

He took a sharp intake of breath, wondering just what his partner's reaction to this situation would be, if he even knew of what Fred and George had done. He didn't have to wait long. The sound of heavy, dragon hide boots echoed on the hardwood floor as Charlie walked through the house.

Charlie stopped short.

"Hi," Harry said with a smile.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Sorry for the lack of updates! I've been going a little bit mental on NaNo for the past four weeks. I think I'm going to finish, by the way. I've written over 46,000 words so far. Hurrah!  
>This story is far from being over. Hopefully I'll get the chapters coming out a bit more regularly when this month is over. Thank you all for your support (and for not giving up on me).<em>


	24. twenty four

_July 2001_

_Charlie wasn't expected - he'd wanted it to be a surprise. _

_It was Harry's twenty-first, after all. It was special._

_After arriving in London late in the afternoon he'd headed straight across the city to the flat where Harry lived with Ron. It seemed, when he arrived, that the party had already started. Charlie knocked twice, and when that yielded no answer, rang the doorbell._

"_Alright, alright, I'm coming!" Harry yelled._

"_Not yet you aren't!" someone else yelled after him, causing a round of raucous laughter. _

_Harry was looking over his shoulder as he pulled the door open, back into the flat and the source of the noise. He was smiling as he turned back to his guest, and then his eyes lit up. Charlie watched with amusement as Harry tried to play his cool-as-a-cucumber trick then let it drop and flung himself into Charlie's arms._

"_You're here," Harry mumbled into Charlie's neck._

"_Of course I am. I wouldn't miss it for the world."_

_Harry pulled back but left his arms draped over Charlie's shoulders. "I can't believe it."_

"_I brought presents. And beer." He held up a six pack of the Romanian beer Harry liked when he came to visit._

"_The come in."_

_There were both people Charlie recognised and those he didn't dotted around the flat, and several of his brothers who gave him some good natured ribbing for turning up for Harry's birthday when he wasn't able to get home for his own brother's in March. It wasn't his fault; one of the hatchlings had been abandoned by its mother and Charlie was, at that point, hand rearing it. _

_The loud, and slightly drunk group fell out of the flat around midnight to head to a club which was rumoured to be owned by Harry Potter himself, although it was run by one Seamus Finnigan. _

"_Is it a gay bar?" Charlie asked Hermione as they made the short walk to the bar._

"_Not exactly," she said, delicately sliding her arm in his for balance as she walked along in very un-Hermione like shoes. "But it's being run by Seamus and Harry, so there are definite homosexual vibes."_

"_Are they... involved?"_

"_Harry and Seamus?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_Oh, god, Charlie," she said on a laugh. "I really hope not. But I wouldn't put it past either of them." She clammed up then, suddenly. "Did I say too much?"_

"_Not at all," he assured her. "Harry and I have a very... open relationship. Unlike my brother and your good self." He tapped the engagement ring Hermione had been wearing since her own twenty-first birthday. She blushed prettily. _

"_We're going to have a winter wedding."_

"_I'm sure it'll be wonderful."_

_Arriving at the club, their group cut straight to the front of the line. "Will you be able to get home, do you think?" Hermione asked as Charlie helped her out of her coat._

"_For the wedding? Of course."_

"_Good." Hermione smiled, and stretched up to kiss him lightly on his cheek. "Go find Harry. He'll want to dance with you, you know."_

"_I might just do that. Have a good night, Hermione."_

_The club was dark and loud, with bright, pulsing lights and a long bar. Charlie liked it immediately and sought out the birthday boy who was sat on the end of the bar, sipping Moet from the bottle. He raised the champagne in a toast and set it back down on his knee, as if to bring attention to the soft, black leather trousers that he was wearing. It wasn't necessary. Charlie had already noticed._

"_Hey stud, wanna dance?" Harry called as Charlie approached._

_Charlie held out his hand and waited for Harry to take it. When their fingers tangled, Harry's were slightly cold from the bottle of champagne._

* * *

><p><em>AN: More shameless Queer as Folk stealing.  
>I ain't even mad. <em>


	25. twenty five

"Shitting fucking bollocks," Charlie said on a breathless, awestruck whisper.

Both the twins laughed.

"Eloquent, bro," Fred snickered.

Completely ignoring his brothers, Charlie took long strides forward until he was standing right in front of Harry, his fingertips gently grasping at the other man's waist.

"Fuck," he said again and Harry smiled, gently pushing his fingers through Charlie's hair.

"I'm taller than you again," Harry said. It was the lightness in his tone that was a silent signal to Charlie that little things like this, although painfully little, were actually things that really mattered.

He nodded silently. "Yeah. You are. How..."

"Oh, glad you noticed we were here," Fred said scathingly.

"Fred and George made splints that hold me up," Harry said, his eyes still locked with Charlie's. "They're going to teach me how to walk again."

"At least, that was the plan until you turned up and started making goo-goo eyes at him," George muttered.

"Does it hurt?"

"No," Harry said. "Feels strange, though. I'm not used to supporting my body like this any more."

The process of re- learning how to walk took hours. _Hours._ Even with Charlie's encouragement and Fred and George's support, Harry was soon drenched with sweat and was forced to take regular breaks.

Bare chested, he pushed forward until he was able to take two, then three wobbly steps unassisted. The twins hovered either side of him, ready to catch when his body inevitably gave up under the additional strain he was forcing on it.

"That's it," Charlie said as he caught Harry around the waist for the fiftieth time. "We're done."

"No," Harry protested. "I can keep going for a bit longer."

"We're done," Charlie said and forcibly helped Harry to the floor so the twins could start the process of removing the splints.

Harry sulked.

Taking the splints off took longer than putting them on since Fred was making precise notes of the measurements so they could be replicated, and Puff seemed to want to settle his furry body down on top of the paper whenever Fred left it unattended.

"You're going to need to give us some time," George warned as he loosened the strap around Harry's ankle. "We need to do some work on these before you can have them back."

"How long?" Charlie asked.

"Maybe a week?"

As Harry sighed deeply, short fingers scratched through the hair at the back of his head in a gentle, comforting gesture. To be so close to normality, even for a few short hours, and then to lose that again... well, Charlie knew his partner well enough to know how devastating that was going to be.

"We'll get them back to you as soon as we can," George said as he got to his feet, the splints in his arms.

The twins disappeared back into the Floo and Harry shuffled closer to Charlie's arms. He was sat back against the sofa and helped Harry to lay back with his back tight to his chest, strong arms wrapped around Harry's body; comforting, safe, home. Love.

Harry turned his head on Charlie's shoulder, seeking out the warm taste of soft lips and the intense kisses of two men who couldn't find words. Were there words for this?

"Love you," Charlie whispered.

Oh yes. There they were.

xXx

"Aren't you tired?"

Harry's hand roamed possessively over the thick expanse of toned torso with its light dusting of hairs and abundance of freckles. His fingertips found a rosy pink nipple and rolled it experimentally between thumb and forefinger until it stood proud from creamy skin; tugged on it, squeezed it hard enough to cause the sensuous undulation of Charlie's spine.

"Tired? Why would I be tired?"

"I thought this afternoon would have been pretty tiring for you."

"No. It was more mentally exhausting than physically."

"I guess I can understand that."

Charlie laid on his back, one arm thrown carelessly over his head, the other loosely wrapped over Harry's shoulder. Harry laid on his side propped up on one elbow. He leaned in and pressed a wet kiss to the curve of Charlie's shoulder, sighing with deep, deep contentment as he did.

"Can I suck you?"

A warm chuckle slipped from between Charlie's lips. "I'm sure you can."

"Help me?"

They were lovers who knew each other beyond the normal range of intimacy, something which had only got more intense with Harry's disability. Suffering in silence simply couldn't be allowed to happen. Needs were recognised, assessed, and the right response executed with a combination of clinical detachment and warm care.

And this type of lovemaking always seemed to take them right back to their roots as a couple. Harry in control, Harry giving, Harry knowing what he wanted from his partner's body and taking it. A dick in his mouth, his hand on his own. Charlie _begging _for more than just teasing licks around the head of his cock, desperate for more stimulation because this teasing would drive him fucking crazy.

"Baby, _please._"

Harry looked up, his green eyes full of mischief as he wet his lips, then plunged his mouth back down on Charlie's cock, swallowing rapidly to take it to the back of his throat and sucking hard.

With his fingers wrapped in silky hair... Charlie came. _Hard._

The unrestrained cries were enough to tip Harry over the edge too, spilling into his own hand and smearing the sticky wetness down his length as he shuddered through the aftershocks. For a few moments everything stopped: heart, brain, lungs, testicles. Then all four gave an almighty shudder and started up again.

Harry cast a wandless cleaning spell, then another to be sure and allowed Charlie to help him back up to the pillows. He licked his sore, stretched lips, still tasting his partner there, and smiled softly as he met tired grey eyes.

"We should have more sex," Harry decided as he combed Charlie's hair back from his forehead. It was getting long again.

"_More _sex?"

"Yeah. There's always room for more sex, Charles," he said primly. "You should know that."

"Okay. I'll think about where we can try and fit it in."

"Don't worry, I know _exactly _where to put it in."

"Dirty bugger."

Harry laughed, delighted, until it turned into a yawn. With his hand raised he extinguished the lights and found what he silently referred to as his snuggle spot, right between Charlie's neck and shoulder. There, he could sleep.


	26. twenty six

_July 2001_

_Hermione leaned back against Ron's warm chest and sipped at her beer, watching the mess of writhing bodies on the dance floor at Zoom. He wrapped his arm around her and she looked up at him, smiling, and pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw._

"_Do you think that Harry has slept with Seamus?" she asked him, raising her voice over the beat of the music. _

"_Why would you even ask that?" he said, shaking his head. "There's one mental image that'll be hard to shift."_

"_Charlie asked me."_

"_Oh," Ron said, rubbing his face. "So it's not bad enough that I have to cope with the fact that my best friend is sleeping with my brother, I also have to deal with the fact that he possibly shags our mate, too?"_

_Hermione laughed. "Stop being such a prude."_

_Ron's fingers seemed to unconsciously play with her engagement ring as they both chatted to friends; it was a beautiful, square cut sapphire and she loved that he knew her well enough to guess that she wouldn't want an ostentatious diamond. Knowing that they'd dance together later was enough, Hermione was quite content to be sociable for the early part of the evening. _

_She maybe understood Harry better than most others. They considered his 'wild child rebellion' period just that - a phase, and hopefully one he'd grow out of before the talk about him becoming the youngest ever Minister for Magic became more than just talk. Hermione saw past the phase, and to the teenager (although not any more) who had had far too much responsibility placed on him at too young an age. This wasn't rebellion, this was Harry re-living his misspent youth. _

_And making a rather good go at it. _

_The leather trousers weren't just a fashion statement, although Hermione was sure they were that too; it turned out that the location of Sirius' old motorbike from the 80's wasn't such a big mystery after all. Hagrid had been keeping hold of it until he thought Harry was responsible enough (ha!) to be able to ride it. Fixing up the rusting heap of junk had taken Harry and Arthur months but it had been a good bonding experience for them, and now Harry was practically inseparable from it. _

_Now that his t-shirt had been stripped off (and deposited goodness knew where) Harry danced bare chested, in just those leather trousers, holding Charlie close to him. As a self-confessed Weasley admirer herself, Hermione could appreciate that Charlie, too, had inherited some of those good genes. Charlie and Bill often claimed that the handsome had been dished out early and that their younger siblings just didn't get their fair share, and she had to admit that the quiet, slightly dangerous look worked for the second-oldest Weasley son._

_He wore dark jeans and a white shirt rolled up to his elbows which showed off his arms to best effect. It appeared that Harry had managed to insinuate all the buttons on the shirt either off or undone. As the two men fell into a heated kiss, ignoring all those around them, including the ones who were clearly hoping to be invited to join in, Hermione looked away with a small smile on her face. _

_And squeezed the bum of her own Weasley man._

* * *

><p><em>AN: I'm a big Ron/Hermione shipper. Love these two.  
>Thank you to everyone who is still reading, reviewing and recommending this story.<br>You're all wonderful people.  
>FF, however, is not. I'm still getting no review or PM alerts at all.<br>FF - you __**suck**__. That is all._


	27. twenty seven

_A/N: This chapter is quite dialogue heavy. And very important. I hope you enjoy it.  
>To my lovely, wonderful reviewers - you are lovely and wonderful. This one's for you.<em>

* * *

><p>When Charlie got home, Apparating onto the doorstep, he interrupted the flight path of one tawny owl who shrieked in protest and circled upwards out of sight. He was late home and hoping Harry would forgive him... and hoping his partner would have started dinner because he was bloody hungry. Checking that baby dragons were feeding well was not an easy task.<p>

Thankfully the smell of cottage pie was wafting from the kitchen as he unlaced his boots and left them at the door.

"Was that Lady?" he called into the house, heading instinctively for the kitchen.

Harry was sat on the kitchen table, directing the preparation of the food from a distance.

"Yeah," Harry said and accepted Charlie's cold kiss. "Just sent her back with a letter for Ron."

Lady was the owl that Charlie had bought Harry when they went on to Diagon Alley the weekend of his twenty first birthday. He'd brought other presents with him, of course, but he'd decided it was high time that Harry had another bird, and he got the impression Harry was too stubborn to accept one as a gift from anyone except him.

It was almost four years since Harry had lost Hedwig, plenty of time, Charlie had thought, to have grieved for his pet. That was true - to a certain extent. Lady was never quite the pet that Hedwig had been; she was a working owl and although the two had an affectionate relationship, it was never quite the same.

Charlie had named her. She was, quite literally, the Lady of the house. And she made sure everyone knew it.

"If I were an Animagus," Harry said slowly, "Do you think I'd be able to fly?"

"Wow," Charlie said. He leaned over the pots of vegetables on the stove and gave each one a poke. "Maybe. What do you think?"

"Hermione thinks it's a possibility."

"Then I'm sure it is. She's something of an expert on the subject."

"Hmm."

"This looks nearly ready. Do you want me to serve up?"

"Please."

They sat opposite each other as they ate. Charlie complimented the food. And thought.

It wasn't until later that night when he pulled the covers up enough so that Harry could arrange them over his body that Charlie felt like he'd put his thoughts into a coherent enough order to be able to vocalise them.

He knew his question was harsh, but he asked it anyway: "What do you miss the most?"

Harry sighed and fiddled with the edge of the comforter.

"Really truly?"

"Yeah, Harry. Really bloody truly."

"Having someone on their knees in front of me sucking me off."

Charlie snorted with laughter.

"Bullshit."

"I'm deadly serious."

"I blow you all the time."

"I know that," Harry said. "But I can't stand up."

"I know," Charlie echoed. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Will you tell me what's wrong?"

It took a few more minutes, but they arranged their bodies so Harry could wrap himself around Charlie's, his knee pressed between the other man's thighs. The wide moon was hanging low in the sky, barely skimming the tops of the trees. Its white/blue light seeped into the room and gently illuminated their surroundings.

"I'm afraid."

"Me too. What are you afraid of?"

"The same thing as always." Charlie's voice dropped to a whisper. "Losing you."

"Me too."

"If... if someone from St Mungo's turned up tomorrow and said that they've found the counter curse and fixed your legs, just like that, what would you do?"

For Harry, it all clicked into place.

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "I don't think about things like that. At least, I try not to."

"Why?"

"Because it's not going to happen and there's no point in getting my hopes up."

Charlie sighed and found Harry's hand, tugging it around himself. "You know what I'm asking you."

"Yeah. Do you really think that after all this-" he lifted their joined hands and gestured around the room- "I could ever, ever leave you?"

"I don't know. I've never been the biggest thing in your life before."

Harry smiled into Charlie's shoulder. "Do you really believe that?" he mumbled.

"Shouldn't I?"

"You've been my whole world for a long time. My moon and stars."

Charlie snorted. "Sap."

They were quiet for a few long minutes, watching Puff pad into the room, look around for somewhere to sleep, and settle himself in a pile of unwashed clothes on the floor.

"You should think about what you want to do next," Charlie said as Puff tucked his head under his paw. "I know you're working on finding a counter curse, or even a work around, but you should have other goals."

"I don't need to work for money," Harry said simply. "Being an Auror was fulfilling a childhood fantasy, not a strategic career move."

"How about teaching?"

"No thanks."

"Dragon training?" Charlie said with a smirk in his voice.

Harry groaned and threaded his fingers through rust coloured hair, smiling with a warmth in his eyes.

"Is there anything else to do in this godforsaken country other than working with bloody dragons?"

"We don't have to stay here. There are dragons in Britain too. And France, and Ireland... we don't have to stay here."

"You said that twice."

"Then it's doubly important."

Conversation was abandoned for soft, slow kisses and a rough, calloused palm that curved around a pale hip.

Harry broke away first, his breathing slightly laboured and more than a little aroused.

"I love this house."

Charlie shrugged and rubbed his lower lip with his thumb, spreading the dampness there. "Well, I own it, or near enough. We can keep it and live elsewhere."

"You don't have to leave your home for me, Charlie. You've made your life here, your whole career."

"Things change. People change, Harry, circumstances change. You miss London, I can tell, and I don't want to keep you captive in this house."

"I'm not captive," Harry said, shaking his head.

"You still have a life, is all I'm saying," Charlie argued. "It's not over. We should make decisions on what's best for the both of us now."

"No, listen to me," Harry said. "If it weren't for you, I would have ended all this. I wouldn't have been able to live with myself being this vulnerable. I owe you my _life._"

"You owe yourself," Charlie argued. "You're stronger than you give yourself credit for."

"All I'm saying, is that I can't live without you. I can't _be,_ without you. And I know I'm shit at saying it, Charlie, but I've been in love with you since I was sixteen fucking years old and wanking off to fantasies of your forearms..."

Charlie laughed and pressed a kiss to the corner of Harry's mouth, hoping to shut him up. It didn't work.

"And I can't imagine ever being with anyone else. I don't want anyone else. Just you."

He took a deep breath and frowned and Charlie was suddenly nervous for what he was going to say next.

"I'm sorry about before. And that's why," Harry said slowly, "I want you to ask me to marry you. Because if I do it then I'm bound to fuck it up. But before you do," he added in a rush, "you should know I'm going to say yes. So you don't need to worry or anything."

It took a moment for the words to sink in. And then Charlie wasn't sure if he was going to laugh or cry. He managed a bit of both. He wanted to ask if Harry was sure, but Harry never did anything he wasn't sure of and rarely said something he didn't mean.

Carefully, Charlie extracted himself from Harry's limbs and swung himself off the edge of the bed. Taking both Harry's hands in his own, he pulled the other man around until he was kneeling on the floor in front of him, the moon framing him in the background.

Harry laughed. "You don't need to get down there."

Charlie ignored him.

"Harry Potter, I promise to love you a little bit more every day for the rest of your life. Will you marry me?"

Smiling like something had lit him up from the inside, Harry leaned down for a kiss.

"Yes," he mumbled against Charlie's lips. "Yes."


	28. twenty eight

_A/N: I was completely and utterly overwhelmed at the response to the last chapter. One of the reasons I love writing is the ability to touch people with my stories and it's an amazing feeling when I achieve that, or come close to it.  
>With regards to this chapter; as you're about to find out, I like echoes and circles, and the past affecting the present, and things repeating themselves.<br>Darling GEG - skip over the last third. You won't like it.  
>Everyone else probably will, though.<em>

* * *

><p><em>December 2001<em>

_She was beautiful. _

_With her hair gently curling and pinned up at the nape of her neck, her makeup soft, and long lace dress glittering. It skimmed over her collarbones and down to her fingertips. The waist was tied with a shiny black ribbon with some sort of raised pattern on it._

_Harry skimmed his finger over the ribbon as he entered the room from behind her and slipped a white rose into her hair. _

_She lifted her hand to touch it, then turned to look in the mirror. In the reflection, Hermione beamed at him. _

"_It's lovely. Thank you."_

"_You're welcome. Are you ready for this?"_

_She sighed deeply, steeling herself. "Yes. Of course. Yes."_

_Harry took her hand. _

_The year before, Mr Granger had passed away. In his absence Harry had agreed to be the one to give Hermione away on her wedding day. At first he'd felt like he'd been pulled in two directions; his loyalties to both his best friend, to be a Best Man, and to Hermione. In the end, her need was greater than Ron's. And of course Ron understood. _

_Hermione adjusted his tie and took his hand. _

_They were at the Burrow, the scene now of the third Weasley wedding, making it something of a tradition after Percy had been married in the garden the summer before last. For all the fuss and drama that came naturally with weddings, Harry felt oddly relaxed with this one. Apart from the speech. He was nervous about the speech._

"_What's on the ribbon?" Harry asked as he caught sight of a familiar shape. _

_She smoothed her hands down over her waist._

"_It's embroidered," she said softly. "With the names of all the people who should be here, and aren't."_

_He nodded._

_There wasn't anything more to say. _

_The ceremony passed... ceremoniously. Harry tried to pay attention but most of the service was boring and actually the little dancing fairies that were glittering around the tent were far more entertaining. _

_But the 'bound for life' bit was rather captivating, and he wanted to be the one to lead the applause and cheering as they kissed. And kissed again for good measure. _

"_There is something about rescuing people from an escaped mountain troll that forces friendship upon you," Harry said with his glass of champagne raised. "At eleven years old, I knew that these two would be there for me no matter what, for the rest of my life. And there's something about facing almost certain death, too, that makes you appreciate the choices that you make of those who stand by your side. Ron and Hermione are the people who never gave up on me. Never gave up hope. And never looked like they would ever get together."_

_There was a burst of appreciative laughter._

"_My childhood wasn't always a happy time. But I can say with absolute certainty that in every moment of light and laughter and happiness, these two people were by my side. They are without a doubt absolutely perfect for each other and I'm thrilled that after years of running after each other, they've finally made this step._

"_To Ron and Hermione."_

_xXx_

"_Hey," Harry said as he bounced over to where Charlie was half leaning, half sitting on the edge of a table. "Did you hear? Seamus caught one of those nasty Muggle diseases."_

"_What sort of disease?" Charlie asked, amused. _

_Harry reached around him to the bottle of champagne on the table and topped off both their glasses. _

"_One of the ones that makes your balls itch like crazy, apparently. 'Cos it's a Muggle disease they have to treat it with Muggle drugs. He's been told not to have sex for a month."_

"_You sound delighted with this news."_

"_I am."_

_Charlie laughed and wondered where he could sneak Harry off to for a quick snog. The tell- tale drop of Harry's gaze to Charlie's lips, then groin, then back again was a clear indication that the other man was thinking the same thing. _

"_Round by the shed?" Charlie suggested._

"_Pfft. No. Everyone's sneaking off there. Amateur." His eyes were laughing. _

"_I missed you, Harry." They hadn't seen each other since Harry's birthday. Work commitments and wedding plans had got in the way and the stars hadn't seen fit to align for them. _

"_I missed you too," Harry whispered. "I'm sorry."_

_Although it wasn't really clear what the apology was for, Charlie had a fairly good idea._

"_Me too," he said. "If we left now would they cover for us?"_

_They did and exchanged smug, knowing, couple-y looks as Harry and Charlie exchanged kisses and handshakes (where appropriate) with the bride and groom. It was safer to Apparate back to the flat in London rather than risk being caught by a stray Weasley relative. Since Ron would be off on his honeymoon in the next few hours, it would be quieter there, too. _

_As they landed in the hallway Harry quickly backed Charlie up against the wall, pinning him there by his wrists and taking control of smooth, needy kisses that travelled from lips over the sharp line of jaw, down a smooth neck to where skin met starched collar. _

"_Why don't I see you more often?" Harry demanded._

"_I don't know. I was just thinking the same thing."_

_Harry shook his head best he could, since his face was still pressed against Charlie's neck. Here, he could fell the rush of blood through his pulse point._

"_My life is shit without you. We should... fucking hell, Charlie."_

"_We should go to bed," Charlie said gently, taking Harry's hand. "We should definitely go to bed."_

_This, they knew._

_Stripping out of clothes, removing each other's layers one by one until warm skin was exposed, fingers and lips needing and wanting and taking until they were balanced right where they were meant to be._

_Harry looked down into warm eyes that were shades darker than normal in the half light, feeling Charlie's thighs clench around his waist as he pulled back carefully, then sank back into the tight heat. _

_Then: "Fuck, Harry, more. Please."_

_He was trying to be careful, to get Charlie there too without hurting him but he only had so much restraint and this... this was what made everything okay again, like a soothing balm over the jagged edges of his life._

_Harry pushed in again. _

_Sweet pink lips were soothed with wet kisses, their tenderness completely at odds with the frenetic movements of their hips and teeth that bit and fingertips that pinched at sensitive nipples._

_He pushed in again. _

_Noise: groans, gasps, cries. Dirty wet slapping sounds. 'Fuck,' and 'more,' and 'now'._

_Pushed in again._

_Control was thrown out of the window or maybe just lost and the dark heat took over, pulsing through him even as he tried to stop it. He never came too soon. Never. Even as this thought skirted the edges of his mind he pushed it away and decided to ride it out, finding his deepest point and grinding there._

_Again._

_Even as he grasped for air in his lungs and sheets under his fingers he pulled back and found a new position further down on the bed. Charlie's hips bucked at the lack of him. Without preamble, Harry sank two fingers back inside, finding Charlie's sweet spot, used the fingers of his other hand to guide the lovely thick cock into his mouth, then moved them to tight, fuzzy balls to gently roll and knead them. _

_It was a work of moments as he purposefully enveloped his man with an overload of sensations and Charlie's cock burst, the pulses of hot come throbbing onto his tongue in the same rhythm Harry was using on his prostate. _

_He hummed as he swallowed and kissed up Charlie's chest, nuzzling into the few reddish hairs there. _

"_I love finishing in your mouth," Charlie said and brushed the tip of his thumb into the soft dimple on Harry's cheek. _

"_I know you do," Harry said. The next bit didn't need to be spelled out. Slowly, Harry leaned in and let Charlie taste himself with a tongue sliding against another hot tongue. _

_Exhaustion took them to sleep._


	29. twenty nine

Their lips lingered on each other's for a long moment then Charlie threw himself onto the bed, dragging Harry with him. They ended up in a tangled mess, Harry lying half on top of the other man and kissing him with considered intent.

When Charlie finally pulled away from the kiss, he was laughing.

"Are you sure about this?" Harry asked, suddenly nervous.

"What do you mean, am I sure?"

"I just forced you to propose to me," Harry said. He tried to roll away, but Charlie held on tight to his waist.

"Oh," Charlie growled with frustration, then shuffled off the bed. "Stay there, you."

"Yeah, I'm just going to run after you," Harry muttered sarcastically.

Charlie ignored him and crossed the room to his closet. He had to stretch to find the small metal tin that was half hidden in a dusty back corner, his fingers first finding a hairy spider, which he left there.

"You could have just Summoned it," Harry said as Charlie sat back down on the bed, crossing his legs underneath himself.

"Yeah, but some of the stuff in here is delicate," Charlie said. "I don't want to break it."

The tin was old, that much was clear as Charlie prised off the lid to sort through its contents. Results from both OWLs and NEWTs were cast aside - Harry picked up the latter to have a sneaky look at what Charlie had achieved.

"Aha."

Charlie held out his hand. Two silver rings sat in his palm.

"What's this?"

"Look."

Tentatively, Harry selected one of the rings. On the inside two sets of initials were carved, facing each other.

"HJP... CTW. Fuck, Charlie, when did you buy these?"

"Oh, I don't know. A while back. When I realised that the only person I would ever marry would be you."

"In real time?"

He hesitated for a moment. "About six years ago."

"Fuck."

"Yeah."

"Wait - what's your middle name? No," Harry said, holding up his hand. "Fuck this. I cant marry you if I don't even know your middle name. I'm a terrible person."

He flung himself dramatically into a pillow, the ring still grasped tightly in his hand.

"Harry," Charlie said and put his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"No!" Harry exclaimed, his voice muffled from where it was pressed into the pillow, holding up his hand to give back the ring.

"Harry, look at me."

In the end, Charlie had to physically roll his partner over. Harry was pouting.

"Why should you know-"

"Because I should!" Harry exploded. "They don't say, do you, Harry James Potter, take that bloke over there to be your husband, do they? It's your fucking _name_, Charlie. And I don't even know it."

"It's Thomas."

"That's a nice name."

It was Charlie's turn to bury his face in a pillow and groan. "You're impossible."

"And yet, you still love me."

"God help me, so I do."

"Would you rub my feet for me? I'm losing the feeling in my toes."

Charlie thought that by now, he should have a better grasp of Harry's changes in mood. But he didn't, and when he picked up a delicately boned foot it was warm right through. Cheeky bastard just wanted a foot rub. Not that Charlie minded, not in the slightest.

"So. How do you want to do this?" Harry asked. "Big Weasley wedding?"

Charlie cringed.

"No? Really?"

"Ugh. I don't know. It just doesn't feel very... _us,_ you know?"

"What is us, then?" Harry asked. Charlie pushed his thumbs up into the arch of Harry's foot, causing him to moan deeply. "We've hidden away most of our relationship."

"Nearly all of it," Charlie agreed. "But I like that. This is ours, not anyone else's. I don't give a fuck about what happens on the outside."

Harry's smile was small, tentative. "Make love to me."

A kiss was planted on the pad of his big toe. "You know I will."

As Charlie moved back up Harry's body, littering it with kisses, the silver ring rolled off the edge of the bed, clattering softly as it landed on the smooth wooden floor. When Harry woke the next morning it was gone.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Happy New Year! So, so much more of this story to come in 2012.  
>Thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed and supported me this year. Hope you have a good one. - HFS xx <em>


	30. thirty

_January 2002_

"_Harry."_

"_Yeah?"_

_It had been another month since they'd seen each other last. This - a fire call - was one of only a handful they'd managed. Real life, it seemed, did not want to cooperate with their romance. _

"_I - uh - I need to - uh - fuck."_

"_Yeah, I need to uh fuck too. Spit it out."_

_He was sat cross legged in front of his fireplace, wearing only pyjama bottoms and eating dry cereal from a bowl on his lap._

"_There's a guy."_

"_Ooh. Is he hot?"_

"_Yeah, but that wasn't what I was going to say."_

"_Is he going to join us? I really want a threesome."_

_Silence. Then - _

"_He wants to take me out, Harry. Like... on a date."_

_Dry cereal was apparently capable of causing dry heaving stomach convulsions._

_Charlie continued: "Is that okay?"_

"_Yeah. Of course. Sorry I'm not there more."_

"_It's not that. I just... fuck, Harry. This is a really lonely job, you know? And he's good company."_

"_What's his name?"_

"_Patrick."_

"_Okay."_

"_Okay."_

* * *

><p><em>AN: Shortest chapter yet? Sorry about that. More soon. _


	31. thirty one

"We should go out today," Charlie said as he watched Harry put too much sugar on his cereal.

"Where do you want to go?"

"I don't know. Out of the house."

"Can I fly?" Harry asked, reaching for the broomstick that was propped up against the edge of the table next to him. It was a comforting thing, knowing it was right there.

"Yeah. Of course."

Having an idea in the back of his mind, Charlie packed some lunch while Harry finished getting dressed and made sure there was plenty of food and water out for the cat. He was just packing a couple of bottles of pumpkin juice into a backpack when Harry swept in.

Pulling the Firebolt up slightly, so he was taller than his standing height, Harry leaned down to brush a kiss over Charlie's lips. Then another. And another, until Charlie was pulling back and swatting away the roaming hands.

"Stop it. Or we'll never leave the house."

Charlie took them out through one of his more scenic routes. The weather was starting to inch towards warm, the mornings now dewy rather than frosty. That was okay by him. The morning light meant he got far more done during his day.

They stopped, occasionally, for a drink or for a long, lazy snog or to chase each other through the intense greenery and beauty of the countryside here. It was silent - so quiet and peaceful, and easy to believe that there wasn't another human for miles.

For lunch they stopped where the evergreens met the sharp edge of a cliff, and a huge waterfall mirrored them on the other side of the valley. Harry played absently with some vivid purple flowers as Charlie unpacked things, then sat down cross legged to eat.

"Why have we never been out here before?"

"I don't know."

"It's beautiful."

"Yeah."

Harry shifted and winced.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Harry sighed. Then he smirked. "Just a bit sore from last night, is all."

"Oh." Charlie flushed.

"Come here."

They stretched out on the rough wool blanket that Charlie had brought with him, Harry facing the edge of the cliff with Charlie's arm anchoring him back against a warm body.

"I need to talk to you about something," Charlie said softly.

"Go on."

"I think we should move back to London."

Surprised, Harry looked back over his shoulder. "Really?"

"Yeah. Maybe wait until you're comfortable walking with the splints first though."

"Why?"

It was a loaded question.

"A lot of reasons," Charlie said lightly. "I think you're ready, for one. And I want to go home."

"_This_ is your home, Charlie."

"You are my home," he corrected. "But it's time for me to be closer to my family. Mum and dad aren't getting any younger, you know? I've got nieces and nephews that I hardly ever see. And you miss Ron and Hermione."

"That's..." Harry shook his head and waved the last comment away. "Irrelevant."

"No, it's not. Harry, did you ever think about how I got to St Mungo's so quickly when you had the accident?"

Harry was silent for a moment, thinking. "No. But in my defence, I was unconscious for a long time."

"I was already in London. At the Ministry. They offered me a job covering Wales."

"What, all of Wales?"

"Yeah," Charlie said. "I'd be heading my own team. It's a great career move, and I get to do it back at home."

"Then why the fuck are we out here? I can't believe you kept this from me."

Charlie sighed and kissed Harry's neck. "You needed somewhere where you could recover in your own time. The last thing you wanted... or needed was my mother or Hermione or Ginny hovering and fussing over you. So I brought you out here where you could have some peace and quiet."

"And what about you? Your job, your life...?"

"You are my life."

"Shut up and be serious."

"Oh god, Harry," he laughed. "I am."

Harry was quiet for a long time, during which Charlie waited, his arm still held protectively around his lover's waist. Every now and then his thumb snuck under the hem of Harry's shirt and brushed the skin of his stomach.

"You want to move to London," Harry said quietly. "But you've been offered a job in Wales?"

"I could commute? I really do like your flat. Or we could get a nice little cottage in the Brecon Beacons?"

Harry shuddered. "Ugh. No thanks."

"The flat, then?"

"What about Puff?"

"He can come too."

With Charlie's help, Harry rolled over. "You'll bring your cat with us. When we move back to my flat in Greenwich, so you can commute to a job in Wales."

"That's about it, yeah. And I want you to be my husband while we do it."

Harry reached up, pushed Charlie's hair back from his face, and leaned in to kiss him softly.

"I'm terrified," he whispered.

* * *

><p><em>AN: If you haven't seen already, I posted a HPDM one-shot this week. It's an established relationship, very domestic-y type thing. Check it out! - HFS x_


	32. thirty two

_A/N: I have a feeling this might be a "no cookies" chapter.  
>The girl who dishes out cookies is one of my favourite fandom people ever.<em>

* * *

><p><em>April 2002<em>

_There was still more than a slight nip in the air as he landed with the light 'pop' of Apparition just outside Charlie's door. He'd long since learned that anything louder than a the sound of a bubble bursting was the sign of a less than skilled Apparator. _

_The wards around the house let him through like an old friend and, with a knowing grin, he wrapped his Invisibility Cloak around his shoulders. _

_But a sound, just inside the door, made him slow his steps._

_He crept towards the bedroom with the skill of an Auror on the scent of something untoward. And in Charlie's bedroom, in the bed that they had shared so many times, he found it. _

_On his back, Charlie had his bare legs wrapped around the waist of a man with long light brown hair and a spectacular ass. This much was clear as it seemed the man - an educated guess told him it was likely to be this fabled Patrick - was drilling his Charlie rather furiously. And Charlie seemed to be enjoying it._

_With the sort of horror that one views a slowly enfolding car crash, Harry watched as the man he loved bowed his back from the bed and cried out, over and over, as another man moved inside him. He couldn't quite tell what Patrick looked like from this angle, and didn't dare attempt to get any closer. But he had a nice body. _

"_Wait," Charlie gasped around kisses. "I want to come inside you."_

"_Fuck. Hurry up then." The voice held the tiniest hint of an accent, but Harry couldn't quite place it. _

_When Patrick flipped over to his hands and knees, he was finally facing Harry. _

_The long hair reached past his shoulders. He had fantastic bone structure and dark brown eyes and skin that flushed with arousal. And Harry was forced to watch for the first time as his Charlie reared up over another man and fucked him with the gracelessness that could only come with the sure knowledge that you are not being watched. _

_Charlie was so beautiful. Even in the sickening circumstances, he was hard and ready. Ready for that to be him, in any way Charlie saw fit to give it to him. He wanted, so desperately, to just kiss the man he - the man who was supposed to be his. _

_But clearly, Charlie did not belong to him._

_With a gentle foot, Harry crept back to the front door and silently Disapparated. _

_Charlie never noticed a thing. _


	33. thirty three

"I'm terrified," Harry whispered.

"Don't be," Charlie whispered back, his lips brushing the corner of Harry's mouth.

xXx

The process of moving their lives from Romania to London involved many boxes and many, many Weasleys. Some Granger- Weasleys, Delacour- Weasleys and Thomas- Weasleys were also involved. As were all of their offspring.

In the days leading up to _The Big Move_, Harry had been put in charge of deciding what items of furniture and their personal belongings would be transferred to the flat and what would stay in the house for when they came back to visit. For the sake of making things easier for the moving crew he'd covered the house (and most of the things in it) with sparkly stickers to denote what was to be Porkeyed over.

Charlie was forced to spend most of his days and long evenings preparing his notes and files ready to hand over to the dragon expert who would be taking over his territory. At the same time, he was doing as much research into the Welsh dragons as he possibly could to prepare himself for the new job. It meant that their time together was seriously pressed. They fell into bed at night, found the comfort of each other's arms and slept deeply until the alarm rang the next morning. Then the routine was repeated.

On the morning of _The Big Move_ people started appearing through the Floo early... too early. Harry was still in his pyjamas. With Charlie's help he set himself up in the kitchen, sat cross- legged on the kitchen table. With a shield charm in place across the doorway to the kitchen to stop any wild children running in, Harry began the process of packing up all the kitchen equipment.

It was a task that took a lot of his attention and a challenge he relished; a combination of a Seeker's reflexes and an Auror's skill at casting multiple spells at once meant pots and pans and cutlery and crockery flew around the room as they were Summoned, Banished or tightly packed in cardboard boxes.

When he caught sight of Ron leaning on the door frame (unable to enter because of the shield charm), watching him with his arms crossed over his chest and a smirk on his face, Harry froze everything in place.

"Alright?" he said, taking down the shield. "Sorry about that."

"No, I appreciate it, mate," Ron said. "Too many bloody kids running around."

"I'll second that."

"Got anything to make tea with?"

Harry laughed. "Yeah. I left the pot and some mugs out , just in case."

"You're a lifesaver."

As Ron started preparing the things for tea, Harry stretched.

"How are you doing?" Ron said, measuring tea leaves into the pot.

"Yeah, not bad," Harry said. "I think I'm looking forward to going back to London."

Ron nodded and a slight pink blush stained the back of his neck. He rubbed at it awkwardly. "It's weird, you not being there every day."

And that, Harry thought, was about as close to a 'I've missed you' he was ever going to get out of Auror Ronald Weasley.

"Yeah," he said absently, accepting his mug of tea. "For me, too."

They sipped in silence for a moment, absorbing the sounds of many people moving about the house.

"Have you seen Fred and George yet today?" Harry asked after a moment.

Ron shook his head. "They're not here yet."

"Lazy bastards."

Ron laughed.

xXx

Fred and George turned up in time to help transport the last boxes - via Portkey - to London. Harry couldn't bring himself to mind, especially when George showed him a bundle of sticks with a sly wink.

It took a while to thank all their moving crew and send them on their way again, until only the twins, Charlie and Harry (and Puff, of course, who was busy licking butter off his paws) remained in the flat. Harry had insisted that he didn't need any help unpacking and really, he didn't. He wasn't even sure where everything was going to go yet.

"These are lighter than the other splints," Fred said as George unwrapped the long, thin pieces of wood from their protective leather covering. "Hopefully you should be able to wear them under your jeans when you're more comfortable walking in them."

"If you need any help getting them on give us a shout," George said. "We'll both be in the shop tomorrow."

Harry nodded. "Thanks. Seriously, guys. I don't know how I'll ever be able to pay you back for this."

"Oh, just let the Prophet photographer get a couple of good snaps of you walking into 'Wheezes, that'll do the trick," Fred said.

"Any time," George added and slapped him on the shoulder. "Brothers and all that, you know?"

They left through the Floo and Harry looked over to where Charlie was sat on the sofa, raising his eyebrow in question.

"Brothers? Did you tell them?"

"I promise I didn't," Charlie said, raising both his hands and laughing. "They're either extremely observant or they really do just think of you as a brother." He shrugged and made space on his lap for a fluffy, sated cat.

"I suppose I think of them as brothers," Harry said slowly. "All of them."

Charlie smiled. "There you go, then."

xXx

Harry would forever refer to the process of relearning how to walk as 'long and hard, and not the good kind'. The splints allowed his body to support itself but after more than six months of being unable to use his legs, adjusting to walking again took time.

After several days and many bruises, Charlie's frustrations reached breaking point. Not with Harry, he was making extraordinary progress, walking up to a few steps unaided before his muscles gave out and Charlie was forced to catch him. His frustrations laid with those constant setbacks his boyfriend was facing and the way Harry's resolve was starting to slowly crumble.

"Just... sit down, for fuck's sake," Charlie instructed, running his hands through his hair. "Give me an hour. Please don't try it without me. I don't want you to get hurt."

Harry nodded and stretched out on the sofa, exhausted.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Not sure yet. Trust me."

"I do," Harry said sleepily and threw his arm across his face.

It was slightly less than an hour later when Charlie Apparated back into the flat. Harry hadn't moved.

"Where have you been?"

"Muggle London."

"Really? What for?"

"Open your eyes and you'll see."

Harry opened his eyes.

"I never thought I'd hear myself saying this... but I'm starting to get sick of the sight of wood."

Laughing, Charlie set the crutches down on the coffee table. They were the long kind of crutches, ones that supported under the arm with a space for his hands to grip further down.

"I explained to the lady in the shop the problem you were having," Charlie said, sitting on the floor next to Harry's head and brushing his hair back. "And she said this was the best thing. I figured the splints will support your legs and these will help you support your upper body as well."

Harry was quiet as he considered it. "That's a really good idea," he said eventually.

"It has been known to happen."

"Shut up."

"I know it's not a cure," Charlie said slowly. "But if you can get mobile then you can do things for yourself more. Maybe think about going out."

"Thank you," Harry said, turning his hand into Charlie's caress and pressing his lips to the palm of his hand. "I couldn't have done this without you. Any of it."

"That's part of being with someone, Harry. You don't have to do anything by yourself ever again."

* * *

><p><em>AN: I rarely do this, because it seems terribly narcissistic, but to respond to the general consensus from the last chapter, Poor Harry? Really? !  
>After everything he's put Charlie through? Doesn't Charlie deserve his own little bit of happiness?<em>

_Okay, now I'm done playing devil's advocate, I think this story needs more Ron and Hermione. I will aim to fix this. Thank you all for reading. You're all lovely. _


	34. thirty four

_A/N: Okay, I think I can safely say that this fic is dividing opinions. That's great, as far as I'm concerned!  
>I'm just pleased that you're all sticking with me as I fuck up two characters I LOVE even more ...<em>

* * *

><p><em>April 2002<em>

_Earlier in the week he'd turned down an invitation from Seamus to go to one of the man's now legendary parties. They were legendary due to Seamus's uncanny knack for rounding up the hottest gay wizards from around the country - and sometimes from as far away as Europe, when they needed to mix things up a bit - and convincing them to get drunk and shag each other. _

_To be fair, they didn't need a lot of encouragement._

_Harry made the jump back to London in one go and tapped his wand against the front door of the penthouse flat that Seamus owned in Shoreditch. It was a Muggle building but somehow his friend had managed to hide himself and his illicit activities within it. _

"_Potter," Seamus said with a smile as he opened the door. "We weren't expecting you to grace us mere mortals with your presence this evening."_

"_Fuck of, Finnigan. Get me a drink."_

"_Oooo-kay."_

_The flat was warm and masculine and already filled with a number of men. __Harry strode through to a large leather armchair that had suddenly, suspiciously become available and flopped into it, propping his boots up on the coffee table and waiting for the glass of Firewhiskey to be pressed into his hand. Seamus swept Harry's feet off his table and sat down on the space that had just become available._

"_Are you going to tell me what's going on?" Seamus asked. _

_Harry threw back his glass of whiskey and held his hand out for the bottle. After his second shot he levelled his eyes with his friend._

"_No."_

"_Okay, mate, that's fine. Your prerogative and all that."_

_Sighing, Harry poured a third shot and held it out. Seamus took it, drank it, and set the glass down on a coaster. _

"_You don't have to tell me shit," Seamus said. "But seriously? We shared a dorm for six years. You were the first person I came out to. We've been mates for - fuck, longer than I want to think about. You're a damn good shag when I'm in the mood for hot and easy-"_

"_Is there a point to this meander down memory lane mate?"_

_Seamus laughed. "Nah, not really. What are you in the mood for?"_

"_Blond," Harry said immediately. "Young. Slim. Pretty."_

"_I meant in the way of narcotics, but I could probably find you something fitting that description." Seamus laughed to himself and shook his head. _

"_Ah, I'll take a bump of anything. Not Muggle shit though. That shit'll fuck you up."_

_Seamus reached into the pocket of his jeans and withdrew a small vial of green potion. "Don't take it all, for fuck's sake. You'll be out cold and won't be able to get anything hard for a week. Just a drop."_

_Harry held the little vial up to the light, shrugged, uncorked it and let a drop fall on his tongue. It tasted vaguely of peppermint and filled his blood with a warm hum._

"_Nice," he said approvingly. _

"_No problem." Seamus took a drop himself, then scanned the room. "See that kid over there?" He pointed to the windowsill where a young man meeting Harry's description rather well was looking out at the night, his elbows resting on the sill and his chin on his palm._

"_His name is Paris. He sucks like a fucking hoover, but rumour has it he's a virgin."_

"_Thanks, Seamus," Harry said as he stood and slapped his friend on the arm. "I think that's exactly what I need."_


	35. thirty five

Harry woke first, which was unusual.

The feeling of complete and utter contentment at being home was almost palpable. It wasn't that he didn't like Charlie's house - he loved it there, too - but this was his home. It was the first home he'd ever called his, and his alone, and that made it special to him.

The wide windows looked out over one of London's many parks (when the curtains weren't drawn across them, of course) and the high ceilings and detailed coving gave away that it was actually an old Victorian house that had been converted.

Puff had slept in the bed with them, tucked around Harry's feet protectively. In some ways, bringing the cat back here with them was a nice way of merging the life they'd had in Romania with the new one they were going to create together in London. Harry already had plans to put charms up around the roof garden so Puff could go up there to play.

Harry rolled over and tucked his head into the nook between Charlie's neck and shoulder. He even managed to persuade one of his un-responsive legs to tuck itself over Charlie's hips. When warm, strong arms encircled him, he allowed himself to drift once more.

When he woke again it was because Charlie was shaking his shoulder.

"Harry. I really need to piss."

"Mm. 'Kay."

He let Charlie free himself from the tangle of arms and legs and watched with growing arousal and approval as his partner walked naked to the bathroom, scratching his ass and his head. By the time he made it back to the bed Harry was stroking himself with a sure hand.

"Well, there's a sight for sore eyes."

"You can help, if you like," Harry offered generously.

Smirking, Charlie laid down on his stomach, diagonally across the bed and without any preamble swallowed Harry's cock down to the base.

"Fuck," Harry groaned. Threw one arm across his face, the other gently cupped the back of Charlie's head, not guiding his movements but subtly influencing them.

It didn't take long for him to come, wound up as he was already. Charlie swallowed around him convulsively and, when Harry was done, rest his head on Harry's stomach to look up at his face.

"Thanks," Harry said with a smile. "I needed that."

"We scared off the cat."

"He'll survive. Do you want me to return the favour?"

Charlie checked the clock on the wall and groaned. "No. I'm due to go into the Ministry this morning to meet my supervisor. I should really get going."

"Okay," Harry said. "I'm sure I can amuse myself for a few hours."

"You could always come with me?"

It was a bold offer. Harry was getting more and more confident using the crutches and the splints, but he still had the odd moment when neither was enough to support him. The Ministry would be full of people who would undoubtedly recognise him. If he wanted to go, of course.

"I could..." Harry said eventually. He reached for his glasses from his bedside table and pushed them on, much happier when his world came back into focus. "Can I, though? To your meeting, I mean."

"It'll be fine. I'm only going to say hello to him and pick up some more files to go through."

"Okay," Harry said, the decision making him feel strangely lighter inside. "Yeah. I'll come."

It took a while to strap Harry into his splints, then dress in loose jeans and a shirt with a jumper over the top. He wore his dragon hide boots, partly because they were comfortable, partly because their weight helped him to walk, for some reason.

Flooing with the splints and crutches was impossible, and although Apparition was still risky, it was the safer option. Charlie took him by side-along to the public entrance to the Ministry and helped him get his feet back before they proceeded down and inside.

Charlie leaned in and rest his chin on Harry's shoulder, giving him access to whisper softly in his ear.

"I'm very proud of you. You're still my hero."

Harry smiled and brushed his lips over Charlie's temple, saying nothing in response. He didn't need to.

Any hopes he may have had at staying somewhat incongruous are dashed within moments of his first steps within the Atrium. If the fact that he was Harry bloody Potter wasn't enough, the Muggle crutches drew attention to him anyway. They were somewhat of a novelty in the Wizarding world.

Even with Charlie acting as his bodyguard, people - well wishers, and general nosy old bints - still wanted to talk to him.

"I'm sorry, but we're going to be late. Must run," Charlie said, grabbing Harry's arm and dragging him into a lift.

As the gate clanged shut behind them, Harry laughed. "That was insane."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Harry said and squeezed Charlie's hand quickly. "Thanks. I might pop in and see Hermione, actually."

"Okay." Charlie punched the button on the lift to take them up to Level Two, where Hermione worked.

"Do you want me to take you down there?" Charlie asked as the gates flew open for them, his hand resting supportively on the small of Harry's back.

"No," Harry said, frowning. "She's one of the first offices when you get out of the lift." He angled his face for a kiss. "I'll be fine."

Charlie watched with a smile as Harry walked/hobbled down towards Hermione's office. Too soon, the lift doors closed behind him.

To knock on Hermione's door Harry had to lean all his weight on one of the crutches and trust that the splints would work. He made the knock short, brisk, hoping she was in and not busy.

"Come in," she called.

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. "Come and let me in yourself, you miserable old cu-"

The door was flung open before he could finish his insult. Probably for the best.

"You have no idea how good it is to see you standing there," Hermione said, a small grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Sit the fuck down before you hurt yourself."

"I'm not going to hurt myself," Harry grouched, but sat down anyway in the comfy visitors chair Hermione kept in the corner of her pin-neat office. It was small but ruthlessly organised, bookshelves lining two whole walls with a window letting in natural light behind her desk, on which perched photographs of her and Ron on their wedding day, one of the three of them in Hogwarts robes, and another of her son.

"Do you have biscuits?"

"I'm married to Ron. Of course I have biscuits."

She brought the tin with her and took the other chair.

"Not interrupting anything, am I?" Harry said.

"Nothing important. Why are you here? We were going to stop by your place on our way home tonight."

Harry shrugged. "Charlie had to go meet with his new boss down on Level Four. What's along here, anyway? I don't think I've ever explored this floor."

"Boring stuff," she said and wrinkled her nose. "Administration staff for the Ministry, mostly. Offices for members of the Wizengamot. Registry offices for births, marriages and deaths. Hatches, matches and dispatches, my nan used to call them. And lawyers and politicians and boring people."

"And you."

Sticking out her tongue, Hermione reached for another biscuit. With narrowed eyes, Harry recognised it as a Ginger Newt. Hermione's guilty smile confirmed his suspicion.

"And when exactly, Mrs Weasley, were you planning on telling me?"

"Soon!" she said, laughing. "I'm only about nine weeks along. We haven't even told mum and dad yet."

"Is this one making you throw up as much as Hugo did?"

"More," she admitted. "The ginger is the only thing that helps. I swear, I'm going through boxes of ginger and lime tea like it's going out of fashion."

Harry made a 'yucky' face.

"I know," she said and bit off the newt's tail. "Ron's refusing to kiss me when I'm drinking it."

"Don't blame him. I'm so happy for you, Hermione. Really."

She beamed. "We were worried for a while that we wouldn't be able to have another one. I don't get pregnant easily. The Healer said it's nothing to be concerned about, some women just find it easier than others. You know that we were trying for about a year before we got married for Hugo. And we've been trying for this one for ages. Trying and trying and trying..."

"Okay, thank you. I get it." Harry held up his hands. "I don't need to know about the ins and outs of your sex life, thank you very much."

"Having a toddler who likes sleeping in mummy and daddy's bed doesn't make it any easier."

"I'm sure."

When Charlie knocked on the door and Hermione hurriedly finished her biscuit Harry took it to mean she didn't want him to share the secret just yet. That was fine. It was her news, hers and Ron's.

"Hey, Hermione," Charlie said, sticking his head around the door. Then to Harry - "Are you ready to go? I could always come back later."

"No, get rid of him please," Hermione said. "I've got work to do."

"Charming," Harry muttered and struggled to his feet. To their credit, neither tried to help him.

"When did you get so tall?" Charlie mused as Harry shuffled towards the door. Harry smiled.

"Well, I grew about seven and a half inches in the summer before my eighteenth birthday. Which is funny, because that's the exact measurement of-"

"Harry..." Hermione said in a low, warning tone.

"My foot, I was going to say!" Harry said with a wink. "My cock is much bigger than that."

Laughing, Charlie brushed a stray bit of hair out of Harry's eyes for him. Hermione played with the edge of her shirt, as if contemplating whether to say something. Harry knew the look well. It was her I-know-something look.

"Go on," he said. "You know you'll say it in the end anyway."

She blushed. "It's a bit... dark," she admitted.

"What about my bloody life isn't? Just tell me, Hermione."

"I had this thought..." she started. "Well. You were always a bit runty as a kid, weren't you? You never really hit a growth spurt or anything until that summer. I always wondered if that tiny bit of Horcrux was sort of... holding you back. It took a lot of energy for your body to fight against it. Until that summer when it was gone, then you could spare that energy to finish growing."

Harry nodded slowly. Solemnly. "Yeah. That would make sense, I suppose. I mean, it wasn't until then that my balls got properly hairy."

"Out!" she said, laughing as Charlie snorted and turned away. "Get out, you horrible man."

"Love you, Hermione," he called back.

"Love you too."

* * *

><p><em>AN: I don't know why, but in all my HP fics I always seem to assume that Hugo is older than Rose. Apologies if that annoys anyone. _


	36. thirty six

_April 2002_

"_Awake already?"_

_The smooth Irish voice interrupted what would have been a rather sneaky return to bed. _

"_Yeah," Harry said, accepting defeat. "Needed to get the kid home. You neglected to mention prior to the encounter that he's still at fucking Hogwarts."_

"_What? He's a seventh year. He's been seventeen for ages. And he's a horny little fucker. Sucks cock like a pro. What did you do with his virginity?"_

_Harry smirked and helped himself to Seamus' mug of freshly brewed coffee. "I put it somewhere for safe keeping. Can I use your shower?"_

"_It's broken, mate," Seamus said. The tone of his voice held the apology. "I'm waiting for the bloke who runs the building to come fix it. You're welcome to the bath, though."_

"_Yeah. Thanks."_

"_Can I share?" He was teasing now._

"_It's not like I haven't seen you naked before. Knock yourself out."_

_They both took coffee and biscuits through to the bathroom and filled the wide, low tub with hot water and bubbles. As Harry had already said, they'd seen each other naked too many times for embarrassment to rear its red face._

_Harry made Seamus take the end with the taps and Summoned his cigarettes, lighting the tip with his wand._

"_What did you do to him?" Seamus asked as they settled in the water._

_Harry took a long draw on his cigarette. "Fucked him."_

"_Oh, come on, Potter. Give a man a break."_

"_Okay," Harry said, as if he was conceding a very big point. "I fingered his ass and blew him 'til he came. Then I fucked him. And the little sweetheart had the good grace to wake me up this morning with a blow job."_

"_Bless him."_

"_I know. After I was done, I was going to fuck him again but he said he was sore. So I rimmed his ass until he came all over his own face."_

_He blew a puff of smoke at Seamus, who was gaping. _

"_Then I took him home."_

"_Jesus, Harry. You just made every wet dream that kid ever had come true."_

"_I know."_

"_At what point did he tell you he was a Slytherin?"_

_Harry's eyes narrowed. "He didn't."_

"_Oh, shit," Seamus laughed and stole a cigarette. "When did he tell you he was seventeen?"_

"_I checked before I fucked him. No point in getting arrested over a shag."_

"_And where does Charlie come into all of this?"_

_At once, all of Harry's walls came slamming down. "He doesn't have a fucking thing to do with any of it."_

"_Bullshit, Potter. You're completely arse over tit in love with the guy, even if you won't admit it."_

_Seamus took a mouthful of coffee, a lungful of smoke and levelled his eyes. Baiting Harry was dangerous. But sometimes it was worth it._

"_Charlie has a new boyfriend," Harry said eventually. He lifted one leg and dangled it over the edge of the tub, causing water to drip down onto the tile in a steady pat-pat-pat._

"_What, this Patrick guy? Are you kidding me?"_

_Harry sighed and lit another cigarette. "Is nothing fucking sacred any more? How the fuck do you know about him?"_

_Seamus shrugged. "The gay community is incestuous, you know that. And it's even worse in the gay wizarding community. Everyone knows everyone, and everyone has fucked everyone. The fact that he's eight years older than you doesn't help, honey. Charlie wasn't exactly a monk while we were still wanking in the Gryffindor showers. "_

"_I know." He dropped his head back to the rim of the tub. "I know. What am I supposed to do?"_

"_Well, I wouldn't have recommended fucking a seventeen year old in a misguided attempt to forget about the sexy man who's enjoying the love of your life's arse..."_

"_Fuck off, Finnigan."_

"_But given the circumstances... I suppose you can either fight for him, or let him go. What do you want to do? Is he worth fighting for?"_

_Of course he was worth fighting for. But there had to come a time when Harry started to wonder if his fighting was a selfish choice. Charlie had given him everything he'd ever asked for - friendship, romance, sex, freedom. Was it time to let Charlie have what he wanted?_

_And if Harry couldn't give that to him, wasn't it only fair to let someone else make him happy?_

* * *

><p><em>AN: Is this a rhetorical question?_

_Little announcement... I'm currently working on a novel which has a deadline of April. I have to write approximately 40,000 words in the next three months. Now, this is totally do-able, I just need to get my ass in gear. I love writing this story but unfortunately it's a bit of a distraction from my real life commitments. Apologies in advance if the next few updates take a while. There's no fucking way I won't finish this story - I want to find out what happens as much as the rest of you. Keep me on alert and I'll update again as soon as I can. Thanks, as always, for all your love and support._


	37. thirty seven

_I'm so sorry it's taken this long to churn out such a short chapter! RL is unfortunately still kicking my ass and I'm finding writing anything hard work at the moment. My absolute loathing of leaving anything unfinished will mean this story will be completed but due to extenuating circumstances, this one may take a while. I only hope you'll stick with me. Love to you all - as always!_

* * *

><p>As Charlie settled into his new job they tentatively found a new routine.<p>

The new role had many more branches than the one he'd left behind in Romania; as well as the hands-on work tracking and studying the dragons, he was also responsible for working with local people, producing reports for the Ministry and teaching the occasional lesson to interested students at Hogwarts, amongst other things.

Harry had learned the hard way that "Professor Weasley" dished out corporal punishment.

Charlie had his own office at the Ministry, too, and on Fridays when most Ministry workers finished earlier than the rest of the week Harry often wandered down from the flat after lunch to hang about and make a general nuisance of himself.

"Get out," Charlie demanded one such afternoon. "If I don't finish this report my boss will feed me to a Welsh Green. Go annoy Hermione."

Annoying Hermione was Harry's second favourite Friday afternoon activity. Ron was still far too busy to be an entertaining co-procrastinator.

Harry's re-emergence into wizarding society had been slow and tentative but ultimately rewarding. He was no longer mobbed by enthusiastic well wishers either on the Alley or in the Atrium. His patronage of several pubs in the area was appreciated and the sidelong looks of pity had slowly started to ebb.

Harry Potter may have been injured, but he was not out for the count.

If he rarely ventured over to the Auror office, that was okay. He met up with old workmates regularly at the Leaky or over a coffee. He stayed in the loop. And made it clear he had no intention of rejoining them just yet.

On a Friday afternoon, Hermione Granger- Weasley was easily distracted. Unfortunately for Harry, she had decided that he had now had plenty of time to settle back into his flat and since he was mobile and relatively self-reliant, he had no excuse not to pick up her books again.

"Really, Harry," she sighed as he dunked a chocolate biscuit in his tea. "I can't do all the research for you. St Mungo's are out of ideas. We need to work together on this."

"The Healer is referring me..." Harry mumbled.

"He's referring your _case_," she corrected. "To Unspeakables. That's not necessarily a good thing."

"It's fine, Hermione," Harry said with a long suffering sigh. "I can't wait for a cure to fall on my lap, I know that."

"So get back to work. RCMC doesn't run itself, you know. I have to put real work in to keep this bloody department going."

"I know, I know."

Harry had wondered if Hermione had been instrumental in Charlie's, and ultimately his own move back to London. There were two heads of department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures - one in regulation, the other in control. Hermione took charge of regulation, which surprised no one. And dragons fell under the category of control. But still, Hermione and her partner worked fairly closely together.

It was easier for him not to ask.

She Disapparated at three on the dot, ready to pick her son up from his nursery and start the weekend. Harry set the series of locking charms on the door and turned in time to see Charlie striding down the corridor, his cloak folded over his arm.

"Done?" Harry asked. Charlie nodded.

Harry frowned and tilted his head to the side. His partner had a funny look in his eye.

"What?" he demanded.

"Do you still want to get married?" Charlie asked, sounding slightly out of breath.

"Yeah. Why not."

"Then let's do it." Charlie's eyes were bright with excitement.

"What, now?" Harry asked, laughing.

"Yeah. The office we need is just down there. I don't want to wait any more."

He stopped laughing. There was something warm bubbling inside him - this feeling, he had no name for. It wasn't new, entirely. But it was definitely something special.

"Yeah. Okay. Let's do it. Do you have the -"

From his pocket, Charlie pulled the small pouch that contained their rings.

"You're well prepared."

"I've been waiting for this for a long time."


	38. thirty eight

_Writing muse is stirring, poking at creativity muse and they're currently wrapped in some kind of delicious foreplay that allows me to write metaphors like these. Translation: I'm writing again. Expect nothing. It could all disappear as quickly as morning mist..._

* * *

><p><em>There had only been a few times in Harry's life that he'd really missed the presence of a mother. He'd grown up without one, so most of the time he never felt like he was losing out.<em>

_When a moment struck and he decided he needed one of those intense, motherly bear hugs, he thanked the moon, stars, and whatever else was out there for Molly Weasley. _

_It was a little after lunchtime on a Wednesday and he guessed (correctly) that she'd be at home. Whilst lurking just outside the Burrow's magical protection, he cast several spells that were likely to be illegal in their context to make sure she was alone._

_Once the coast was clear he ventured further into the garden to the back door. _

_From inside, the lemony smell of washing up bubbles drifted out through the open kitchen window, carried by a song on the wireless and the smell of baking. He knocked once for propriety and let himself in, for being family. _

"_Harry!" Molly cried as he stuck his head around the door and shot her an impish grin. "Come in!"_

_He did, and was soon enveloped in her arms. _

_It was exactly what he needed._

_He was ushered to sit at the kitchen table, presented with tea and biscuits for dunking, and tucked his feet up underneath himself on the chair to watch her ice a cake. _

"_Hope you don't mind me getting this done," Molly said as she viciously beat icing sugar and butter in a bowl. "It's for Mrs Cottle across the way's birthday tomorrow. She's going to be seventy five and I thought it was an achievement that warranted a cake."_

"_I totally agree," Harry said. On sitting down he'd removed his Auror robes, revealing a worn out white shirt that was rolled to his elbows and grey pinstriped trousers underneath. The fact that his shirt was untucked and he was wearing battered trainers... well, these things didn't matter so much._

_Since he'd been granted the afternoon off - a concession since he'd worked a night shift earlier in the week - he had nowhere to be and nothing to do other than spend time in the kitchen that reminded him of some of the best parts of his childhood. The parts where he felt like family. _

"_Charlie has a new boyfriend," Molly said in the conversational (bordering on gossipy) tone that disclosed she had no idea of Harry and Charlie's ex-relationship._

"_Yeah?" Harry choked out and sipped his tea. Nausea clawed at his stomach. He reached for another biscuit, hoping its papery dryness might ease the discomfort._

"_Yeah," she echoed. "His name is Patrick. Handsome fellow, too. They came over for tea on Saturday afternoon; Charlie was back over for the weekend. They seem happy together. I hope this one works out for him. He's a good boy, my Charlie."_

"_He's great," Harry said quietly. Then quickly brushed biscuit crumbs from the table. _

_Molly looked up with a little frown on her face, which quickly melted into a smile. "I wish I could see more of you, Harry. I miss you when you're not around. Ron too, of course. You should all come by more often."_

_Harry laughed. _

"_We'll try," he said. "I promise."_

_To himself he silently echoed that vow. He'd been given a second chance at a mother. She was precious to him. _


	39. thirty nine

Just down the hall from Hermione's office was the officiously titled 'Department for the Registry of Life Events'. It was, on the outside at least, a door like all the others in the Ministry with a small plaque declaring its purpose. However, once the door was opened, it lead through to a revolving spiral staircase.

"Dumbledore's office had one of these," Harry said with a smile in his voice as he stepped through. The staircase seemed to sense his presence, or maybe just his need as it stopped just for a moment to allow him to step on, then started moving again.

The top of the staircase opened out into a dizzyingly high room, stacked with shelves of parchment and books and ladders that reached up for what looked like miles to the very top of the bookcases. To one side, a little wizard was bent over a desk, thick horn-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, the feather of his long quill curling over his shoulder as he wrote.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" he asked without looking up.

"Can we get married here?" Charlie asked.

"When?"

"Today," Harry said. "Now, if you're not busy."

The old wizard looked up then, at Harry over the top of his spectacles, with an odd little grin. "I don't seem to be overly busy. And your enthusiasm is heart warming, Mr Potter. But you will need a witness."

"A witness?"

"Yes. Just the one. Someone to confirm that the event has taken place, other than myself. And of course, seeing as I am only one man - one rather old, rather easily influenced man, it bides us all well to have another present."

His voice held a touch of humour. Harry looked over at Charlie, disappointed and dismayed. Then he had a thought.

"Hey. Is your dad working today?"

Charlie smiled. "Yeah. He should be."

"Is it okay if the witness is family?" Harry asked.

The wizard nodded slowly. "That is permissible."

"We'll be right back," Harry said, grabbing for Charlie's hand. "Don't go anywhere."

Charlie was laughing as he was dragged back to the lifts and, once the doors closed, leaving them alone, caught Harry in a slow kiss.

"You want my dad to witness our marriage?"

"Yeah," Harry said with a frown and the tiniest moment of hesitation. "Why, don't you?"

"Of course. I'm just wondering when I stop getting more in love with you."

Harry snorted. "Sap." He didn't mean it.

Arthur was fortunately in his office.

"Dad," Charlie said, letting Harry lean against the door frame for support. He still wasn't used to being on his feet for long periods of time. "Do you have ten minutes? We need you to do something for us."

Dutifully, Arthur locked up his small office and followed them back to the fifth floor. They made small talk during the journey and it was only when they arrived at the Department for the Registry of Life Events that Arthur stopped and looked confused.

"What are we doing here?" he asked.

Harry looked at Charlie, then turned to Arthur. "We - that is, Charlie and I - we're going to get married. Would you be our witness?"

For a moment Arthur looked shocked. It lasted into another moment and Harry began to worry, until Charlie squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"Your mother is going to kill you," Arthur said eventually, brushing his red hair (now liberally sprinkled with grey) back from his face.

"Please, Dad."

"Then she'll kill _me._"

Harry reached out and touched Arthur's shoulder. "Please, Dad," he echoed.

Arthur shook his head. "Come on, the pair of you," he muttered.

The little wizard didn't ask them what they wanted of the ceremony, just processed their names and took their fee, then asked both men to face each other.

"Do you, Harry, take Charlie to be your husband, forsaking all others, to love and protect for the rest of your life?"

Harry nodded. His throat was thick. "I do."

"And do you, Charlie, take Harry to be your husband, forsaking all others, to love and protect for the rest of your life?"

"I do."

They silently exchanged the rings. In a tiny, cramped office, full of books and papers and the hum and particular smell of old, old magic, they became husbands.

"Now, I just need you to sign here..."

It only took minutes, but they had been working towards the moment for years. Arthur dutifully added his signature to the scroll, which was tapped with each man's wand as a security measure. If their external appearance had been forged, this could not be.

They laced their fingers together to walk out of the room.

"Tell your mother," Arthur warned once they left. "I'm not going to lie or keep secrets from her."

"We will," Harry said. "Promise."

"I'm very proud to call you my sons," Arthur said simply, and left.


	40. forty

_July 2002_

_Later, his friends would refer to the events that follow as "staging an intervention". It was, they would claim, for his own good, due to the fact that his actions were leading him down a path that lead to almost certain self destruction._

_While the Auror department were more than happy to overlook the private sexual activities of their golden boy as long as he kept a fairly clean image in public, when that mask started to slip, so did their patience._

_The enforced leave of absence from the department reached the pages of the Prophet gossip column with startling speed._

_Harry found that actually, he didn't give a fuck. After a month long holiday on the Greek resort of Faliraki (where he met the intimate acquaintance of several local barmen) he returned to London in order to restock on basic essentials. He was considering moving on to Ibiza next. Or maybe Magaluf._

_What he absolutely did not expect was to be accosted and restrained at his home by several of his nearest and dearest._

"_What the fuck? You do know this is illegal, don't you?"_

"_Harry, we're worried for you."_

"_Why the fuck for? I'm having the time of my fucking life."_

"_Stop swearing at my fucking wife you useless piece of shit."_

"_Nice, Ron. Very nice."_

_The upshot of it was that he didn't go to Faliraki._

_Or Magaluf. _

_The threat of St Mungo's Addiction and Recovery unit was dangled over his head until he bowed under the pressure and agreed to stay in London and get help. _

_And then Charlie arrived. _

"_I don't want to see you right now."_

_He stood in old pyjama bottoms, the elastic broken so they sat low on his hipbones. He wore a battered Weird Sisters t-shirt over the top of it and his wand dangled from his fingertips. _

"_I can't see you right now," he clarified. "This isn't a particularly easy time in my life."_

_And God, what it cost him to admit that. _

_Charlie kept his hand on the doorframe, afraid to move it in case Harry took the opportunity to slam the door closed on him. His heavy cloak wasn't enough to keep the chill from his skin and his fingers were turning numb with the cold, but he was not going to leave. _

"_My mother called me," Charlie said. "She asked me to come here. She's worried for you, Harry. She said we used to be close and could I help you."_

_He took a deep breath and forced Harry to meet his eyes._

"_Can I help you?"_

_Harry's fingers twitched on the door, desperation and love and self-preservation all warring inside him. And fear. _

"_I don't know," he said eventually. _

"_Can I try?"_

_Taking a deep breath, Harry tried not to throw up on his feet. "Yeah," he said. "Okay. You can try." _


	41. forty one

He woke to the sound of his husband softly snoring beside him and the insistent _tap-tap-tap _of his owl at the window.

Groaning, Harry grabbed his wand and lifted the sash on the window wide enough for Lady to squeeze through and fly over to the bedside table. It was she, more than their other pet, who understood that he was unable to move to her.

"Charlie," he said and poked a freckled shoulder. "Charlie. Prophet's here."

A low groan, the creak of bedsprings. The muffled - "Fucking hell, Harry. Give me the highlights. I can't be arsed at this time of the morning."

He shuffled himself to a sitting position in bed and shut the window with an absent wave of his hand. Lady remained perched on his alarm clock, possibly wanting to hear the news herself.

"It didn't make the front page."

"Thank Merlin for that." Mumbled.

"But only because that witch from Pontypridd finally got cornered. She tried to attack the Aurors who got her with a mutated Venomous Tentacula and three of them were bitten before she was restrained."

Silence.

"Poor Neville."

Charlie snorted with laughter.

"We made page three."

"Goodie."

"Shut up you miserable bastard. Listen to this. 'Potter, twenty eight, married his long term lover Charlie Weasley late last Friday afternoon. Our sources say the ceremony was conducted in private with only one witness present. When approached, none of the Weasley family were available for comment.'"

"Ha. Good."

"It goes on to describe my 'sordid past' and our 'turbulent history' but we don't need to go over that. You were there."

Charlie finally removed his face from the pillow and rolled over. "Yeah. I was."

"You're still here now."

A small smile. Under the covers, where Harry couldn't see, Charlie rubbed his thumb over the smooth metal on his ring finger, turning it around and around. He liked the way it felt.

xXx

Molly Weasley had eyes like a hawk.

The local school had been closed for the day, so all of Bill and Percy's children were running wild around the gardens of The Burrow. It was they alone of Molly's children who had settled in the local area, wanting their children to grow up in the small, friendly town where they too spent their childhood. The others had scattered to London, mostly, with the exception of Ginny who was starting out her Quidditch career in Liverpool.

Despite all of this, everyone seemed to gather in Ottery St Catchpole; it was the heart of the family.

Uncle Harry and Uncle Charlie had to dodge the questions and delighted pleas for attention and games as they made their way up the path, still loosely holding hands.

"After we've spoken to Nanna," Charlie said as he detached a hyperactive child from his leg. "In a minute."

"Arthur called and said you were coming," Molly called out to them. Charlie held the kitchen door so Harry could make his way in to a seat at the kitchen table. Family always sat at the kitchen table. The living room was for guests. "I put tea on."

She turned and regarded them with those hawk-sharp eyes. "What's that?"

"What's what, mum?"

"Don't play smart with me, Charlie. That on your finger."

After only resting his legs for a moment, Harry pushed the chair back and rose to his feet, taking Charlie's hand to steady himself. They had not discussed how they were going to do this. He started to regret that.

"Molly... Charlie and I got married."

She raised her eyebrows and planted her fists on her hips.

"You did what?" she asked, her voice low and dangerous.

Through the open window, the sounds of children playing drifted in. Harry suddenly wished he had stayed out there... surely this was a mother/son sort of conversation?

"We got married, mum," Charlie repeated.

"When?"

"This afternoon," he said quickly.

"Oh," she said and turned back to the tea.

"It's not like that," Harry rushed to explain. "We didn't plan it."

"You planned it enough to buy rings," she said with a tiny edge to her voice.

Harry looked to Charlie for help, his eyes pleading.

"Mum, sit down." She did, and didn't look at them. "I bought the rings years ago. This was the right thing for us," Charlie said, his voice no longer pleading but strong, confident. "We would never have been happy with all the fuss of a big family wedding. We did it this way..."

"Because it's what we want," Harry finished for him. "I want for us to be married."

"I'm not upset," Molly said. "You're both adults. You're old enough to make your own decisions. I'm just disappointed in you."

Laughing, Harry dropped his head to the table, on top of his folded arms. Charlie groaned and rubbed his hands over his face.

"Mum," Charlie said, grabbing Harry's hand. "Please be happy for us. He's a properly part of the family now. Harry's my husband, now."

Her face softened. "Charlie, you're an absolute bloody muppet if you think he hasn't been a part of this family for years. It just took you two a time to make it official, is all. Do you want cake or biscuits?"

xXx

Harry carefully folded the newspaper and set it down on his bedside table, then shuffled down the bed and rolled onto his side to face his partner.

"Hi."

"Hi." Charlie smiled. "You're looking rather..."

"Horny?"

"I was going to go with smug, but now you come to mention it..."

Harry laughed and thrust his hips forward. "Want a shag? Blowjob? Handjob?"

"How about a kiss?"

It was the sweetness of the request that had Harry responding in kind; with his hand gently cupping Charlie's cheek he leaned in to brush his lips over soft, pink lips. Kissing satisfied for only so long, then they progressed - hands moving, touching, stroking to make throats vibrate and spines arch, toes curl.

Abs clenched, fingers dug into soft skin and fingers laced together.

Harry marvelled, as his body moved within his partner's, at the way two people's hands could link together. It was smooth and perfect and it connected them in a whole other way. Intimacy. Perfection.

Orgasm, with his face pressed tight against the side of Charlie's neck, feeling a day-old growth of stubble against his cheek, the thumping rush of blood through his arteries, a wet rush of air at his ear as Charlie came too.

"If this," Harry gasped, "If this is being married, I like it."

Chuckling, Charlie splayed the fingers of his spare hand wide across Harry's faintly sweaty back. Held him there. There was no rush to move, after all.

* * *

><p><em>AN: A flashback within a present-time chapter of a story told in a series of flashbacks.  
>It's a wonder anyone reads this shit, it really is.<em>

_Real Life Update: Remember when I went a little bit nuts and wrote a whole novel last November? That's now being published. The editing process is as crazy as the writing one was. I've finished the sequel-novel I was working on before (yay!) and although that should now mean more FF writing time, I've actually got something else in my head to get started. Ah well. No rest for the wicked, after all! Thanks for all the support and I'll update again just as soon as I write the next bit. _


	42. forty two

"_But you are not alone in this.  
>And you are not alone in this."<em>

_- Mumford & Sons, 'Timshel'_

_July 2002_

_They sat on opposite ends of Harry's squishy, soft sofa, neither looking at the other, both gripping mugs of hot tea. Tea cured all. Supposedly. _

"_How have you been?"_

_Charlie nodded. "Not bad. Busy."_

"_And Patrick?" _

"_He's fine."_

_The storm that had been building in London all day had broke just before Charlie had arrived. The rain was now hammering down against the windows and the sky had faded to black, causing the illusion that it was December rather than July. _

"_Does he live with you now?"_

"_No. Look, Harry-" Charlie said, quickly glossing over his answer, "are you sure talking about Patrick will help?"_

_Harry shrugged. "Things that I thought would help didn't. I didn't really know that I wanted help at all until a few days ago. You know that they're pretty much keeping me prisoner in here?"_

"_I'm sure that's not true."_

"_I don't know if I even want to leave any more. Does he live with you?"_

"_No, Harry," Charlie said, more gentle this time. _

"_What does he do?"_

_The ceramic was hot against his hands, so Charlie rolled the mug between his palms. Kept it clear from burning his fingertips that way. _

"_He's a journalist. He's from Romania but he's been working in America for the past few years."_

"_Muggle?"_

"_No. Muggle born, though."_

_Harry nodded. "Okay."_

_Silence. Not the good kind. The kind that stretched between them, making a few feet seem as impenetrable as several miles._

"_I've never felt this hopeless before."_

_It was the sort of declaration Charlie had never heard from Harry before. This was a young man who had faced certain failure, even death, with inner strength and courage that had barely been seen before or since._

"_Why hopeless?"_

"_Because... because..."_

_He sighed and placed his mug on the floor, dropping his head to his hands. Elbows on knees. Despair. _

"_Can I tell you what I think?"_

"_Go on then," Harry mumbled. "Everyone else seems to want to give me their bloody opinion. You might as well join them."_

_Charlie moved to sit on the floor with his legs crossed. From this position, even with his head in his hands, Harry could see him._

"_I think we made some mistakes," Charlie started, quietly but firmly. "We also made some right decisions. I could never, ever have kept you tied to me, Harry. It wouldn't have been right. It would be like... like keeping a dragon in a cage. They're not supposed to be in a cage, they're supposed to spread their wings, to explore the world for themselves."_

_Like a child, Harry moved his hand so it was cupping his chin. The other hand reached down and pinched a lock of fiery red hair and rubbed it between thumb and forefinger. It wasn't his hair to stroke any more. He didn't care._

"_Everything you are, Harry, is something that you made for yourself. We learn lessons from the people around us and take them in and let them shape who we are. But all the lessons in the world can't tell you how to be a man. You needed to learn that one for yourself." _

"_You left me," Harry said. "Just like my parents, and Sirius and Remus and Dumbledore. I lo-" he swallowed the word 'loved' and replaced it with another. "I thought you'd be different. But you left me too."_

"_Oh, god, Harry."_

_Charlie turned his face against Harry's palm. Hid his face in it. When he turned back his face was set. _

"_I never left you. I will never leave you. Don't ever think that. Don't you ever think that I stopped caring."_

"_Didn't you?"_

"_No. I just... I don't know if I can justify Patrick to you. He's a good man. I can't leave him just because you're here..."_

"_You can't leave him for me."_

"_No," Charlie said softly. "I can't. It's not fair."_

"_Do you love him?"_

"_I... I don't know."_

"_Do you love me?"_

_Silently, Charlie nodded. _

"_But you won't leave him?"_

"_You're not even twenty two yet, Harry. This isn't what you're supposed to be doing with your life. Don't put yourself in a cage. Don't let me put you in a cage and call it love, because that's not what loving someone means. Go out and do whatever it is that you need to do. Go and find out what the world has in store for you."_

"_And what then?"_

_Charlie raised up onto his knees and cupped Harry's face in his hands, kissing him softly, then firmly, then desperately._

"_Then..." he said as their mouths broke apart but foreheads remained pressed together, eyes screwed tightly closed. "We'll see where the world leads us."_

"_Promise me..."_

"_I promise."_

"_You don't know what I was going to say."_

"_Harry... I don't need to."_

* * *

><p><em>AN: To GEG, and anyone else who thinks that this story is winding down, I hate to disappoint you, but no. There is a stupid amount left in my head. I'll keep writing until past catches up with present. But there's a lot more story left to tell. Thanks for sticking with me. _


	43. forty three

Three weeks into their marriage Harry decided that he was quite enjoying himself. His days were filled with a variety of activities, from throwing things at the cat for him to chase while sat on the roof, to sitting in the Auror office and having people make him frequent cups of tea.

He went for lunch with friends, spent afternoons with Molly or Hagrid and cooked nearly every evening for dinner.

Sometimes he brought out one of Hermione's books. But that was quite rare.

This new life had its drawbacks, same as this new body. Something strange was happening though, where he was starting to accept that things might not change. He might not be able to walk again. He might not ever go back to work as an Auror. And somehow, that was starting to be okay.

One morning there was a letter that arrived with Lady as he and Charlie sat down for breakfast of coffee and toast.

"Mm," Harry hummed, licking his buttery fingers. "There's an Order meeting tonight. Wanna go?"

"What time?"

"Seven. At your mum's."

Charlie shrugged. "We've got plenty of time to get there. Don't see why not."

After Summoning a quill, Harry signed their acceptance on the reverse of the note, fed Lady a crust of toast and sent her back off with their reply.

Unfortunately, Charlie's words came back to haunt them and various circumstances, _none of which were Harry's fault_ meant that they arrived at The Burrow at about three minutes past seven.

"Sorry, sorry," Charlie muttered as they found seats in the cramped living room. Hermione rolled her eyes.

Since the end of the war the Order met far less frequently than they had previously. It was, admittedly, more of a social occasion than anything else, but all members had been in agreement that there was good they could do outside of being in a life or death situation. There was no structure to when the meetings were scheduled, or the topics that were discussed in the hour or so that they lounged around in one member or another's living room. And it always seemed, to Harry, at least, that the really interesting stuff was discussed after the meeting had officially come to an end.

"Mr Potter," Professor McGonagall said with a smile as she cornered him in the kitchen. "I have something of a proposition for you."

"Oh?" Harry said and leaned back against the table. He had a fresh mug of tea in his hands and although he was starting to use the splints more and more without the crutches, he wasn't yet confident enough to stand for any period of time without anything to rest against.

"There seems to be a teaching position which has opened up in the school-"

"No," Harry interrupted her, knowing full well about the recent opening and hoping to halt his former head of house before she got into full swing.

"As you might know," Professor McGonagall continued, regardless of his interruption, "our dear Professor Grey is taking maternity leave from the Defence Against the Dark Arts job as of the end of the month, and we're having a terrible time trying to replace her."

"No, Professor," Harry said, amused now.

"You won't even hear me out?" she asked, matching his tone of voice. "Professor Flitwick and I have a Galleon or two riding on your response."

"I have no interest in teaching," Harry said firmly. He hoped. "None at all."

"I find that hard to believe. You are a most well qualified candidate for the job."

"I'm no candidate at all."

"You have teaching experience..."

"If you are referring to an illegal underground student organisation I was part of during my fifth year, I hardly think that counts..."

"And coaching experience in the Auror office..."

"Mentoring," he corrected. "I imparted no knowledge whatsoever."

"Not to mention all of the front line, first hand experience you have in fighting the Dark Arts."

"Professor - "he said and she leaned in closer as he lowered his voice. Harry plastered a serious expression on his face. "I hate children."

The older witch broke out in a peal of laughter, clapping her hands a few times. "Oh, my dear Mr Potter, do you think that stops any of the current faculty from doing their job?"

Harry snorted. "I'm sorry, Professor, I'm not interested."

"I took the liberty of contacting your current employer," Professor McGonagall continued blithely, "they would be happy to grant you a secondment from your current position in order to cover for us. That would mean you wouldn't take any pay cut. In fact, we may be able to offer you a little bit of a pay rise."

Holding back his smirk, Harry folded his arms over his chest. "No."

"You would have your own office."

"No."

"And we'd let you set your own curriculum. Within Ministry guidelines, of course."

"No."

Professor McGonagall huffed a sigh. "Well. At very least, I think you should discuss it with your family." She stared pointedly at the ring he wore on his finger.

"Oh shit," Harry muttered. "Am I supposed to do that now?"

She nodded sagely. "It is generally wise to discuss these types of things with one's spouse."

"Bollocks."

"Indeed."

"I really don't want to be a teacher."

"Can I tell you something, Harry?"

He rolled his eyes in the manner of the teenager he always felt like around the Headmistress. "Go on then."

"Neither did Severus."

Harry blinked. "Then why did he?"

"I'm not sure we'll ever know. He certainly wasn't ever fond of children. Or teaching. Or even Potions, really. But he was still one of the best Potions Masters that the school has ever seen."

"This is emotional blackmail."

McGonagall patted his arm. "Of course it is, dear. I'll look out for your owl."

xXx

They got home, showered, and climbed into bed before Harry brought up the conversation with his husband.

"McGonagall wants me to take the Defence job."

"I know. Me and Hermione were listening from the stairs."

Harry laughed and rolled onto his back, bringing Charlie with him and finding a new, comfortable position with a head on his shoulder and an arm and leg thrown over his body. He always felt safe like this.

"What do you think?"

"Many things," Charlie said mysteriously and rubbed his hand over Harry's stomach. "But I've been told to give you a message from Hermione."

"Must you?"

"Yes. She said - if you don't take it I'll hex your balls off, you fucking idiot."

"Classy."

Charlie laughed and closed his mouth over Harry's warm, slightly damp skin.

"I don't know what she's on about, anyway. What have I got to teach children?" Harry demanded, desperate to pace fitfully like he used to, these legs not allowing that frustrated luxury.

"Lots of things, Harry," Charlie said gently. "McGonagall wouldn't have asked you if you didn't."

"Don't cast _Diffindo_ on your boxers, no matter how much of a rush you might be in to get out of them," Harry said, ticking one point off on his fingers. "You can cast a semi-permanent _Muffilato _on the curtains around your bed in the dorms to hide the sounds you make when you're wanking. Never, _ever_ enter into a bet with a Weasley."

Charlie smiled and reached for Harry's hand. "Okay, no bets."

"But marriages are fine," Harry said, finding Charlie's lips with his own. "Marriages are good."

"They are so far. I think you should take the job."

"I disagree."

"Harry, you're a role model to these kids. A hero to some of them. You've been fighting since you were eleven years old. Fighting a war then never giving up on chasing down the bad guys when you joined the Aurors. Stop fighting, if only for a little while."

Harry's eyebrows raised so far they threatened to join his hairline. "Are you suggesting that I take a teaching job for a _rest?_ Are you _mad_?"

"Not a rest, no. More like a... career break."

"I thought that's what I'm doing now." With his fingers threaded through Charlie's hair Harry heaved a contented sigh.

"No, what you're doing now is fucking about and living a life of luxury."

"I _like_ my life of luxury."

"A little too much, maybe."

There was no menace in his voice when he said, "Oh, fuck off, Weasley."

From there, Charlie dropped the subject entirely and barely even mentioned the word Hogwarts around his partner. He had a funny feeling that Harry would come to an inevitable conclusion on his own, given just a little bit of time to let the idea settle.

And if he didn't, well, Charlie was willing to nudge him in the right direction.

* * *

><p><em>AN: I don't reply to reviews. I'm sorry. I know I should, and I mean to with all the good intentions in the world, but it just doesn't happen.  
>You should all know though that I love each and every one though, and thank you so much to the people who take time to do it.<br>And to those people who don't, thank you for reading too.  
>Because, as I've said before, a writer isn't much without someone reading their work.<br>Love you all._


	44. forty four

_A/N: For MauraLee88, who's baked goods are almost as delicious as her support._

* * *

><p><em>July 2002<em>

_Charlie stayed on the sofa for two weeks and left before Harry's birthday. _

_To his credit, Harry didn't ask about Patrick again. He was desperate to know what Charlie's partner thought about the fact that he was sleeping in his ex's flat, or if the other man thought they were having sex. _

_They weren't._

_That's not to say that it wasn't hard for them both to get up every morning, eat breakfast together, spend every day together wandering around Camden market or London Zoo or Brick Lane... Or sit in Hyde Park or wander down to the Thames..._

_When Harry would later look back on those two weeks he saw it as time when their relationship changed. It was time spent realising that Charlie was his friend. Not just an ex, not the man who gave him his first kiss and took his virginity in return, the first person who he'd ever fallen in love with. Someone who he could argue about Quidditch with and debate politics, both Muggle and wizarding. They knew so much about each other's lives it seemed almost impossible that they could ever be wrenched apart._

_It was this that finally cracked something inside Harry open. He let little bits of whatever it was that had been exposed seep out from within him, even as he knew that he had no name for whatever it was. It left him too raw, too vulnerable. _

_After all of the soul searching that had been forced upon him, it was the simple fact of being able to still be friends with Charlie after everything that broke him. _

_And he learned that from rock bottom, it was true - the only way really was up._

_xXx_

_In stark contrast to his twenty first birthday, Harry spent his twenty second at a 'curry and a pint night' at a local Muggle pub. It was quiet, the food was good, and a handful of friends turned up to celebrate with him. _

_Friends who stopped him from having more than two pints during the entire evening, who watched him carefully for any signs of physical or mental distress. _

"_You're looking really skinny," Hermione said, frowning at his bare arms, propped up by his elbows on the edge of the table. Dark wood, scarred with use. Skinny arms, scarred with his past. _

"_Am I?"_

"_Yeah. Are you eating?"_

_No._

_But he wasn't about to tell her that. Instead he shrugged._

_When it was time to go and place their food order at the bar she wouldn't let him hand over the money for his meal, insisting that the birthday boy shouldn't have to pay. So when his food turned up and he was presented with a huge serving, plus poppadoms and naan bread and onion bajis and samosas... he wasn't all that surprised._

"_You're turning into your mother-in-law," Harry said. Smirked._

_Hermione glared at him but, to her credit, refused to rise to his veiled insult. _

_It was only when he started to eat that he realised how starving he was. _

_xXx_

_As the night grew later people left in drips and drabs... George and Angelina left within minutes of each other and everyone pretended that they didn't know they were going home together. Fred watched, amused rather than upset that his brother was now secretly dating his former girlfriend. _

_Luna waved sparkly silver nails at them and flitted off to go dance the night away somewhere, Ginny left with her and Neville looked longingly at the heavy oak door long after it had closed. Harry wondered who he was pining after. _

_Seamus had had to leave after only a pint to go back to the club and Dean had to work early the next morning, so left after the meal. _

_That left Harry, Ron and Hermione and Fred sat in a booth that faced out onto the rest of the pub, pint glasses lined up in front of them like sentries. _

"_Need to piss," Harry muttered and slid off the end of the bench. "Want another one?"_

_Hermione glared at him._

"_Fine, fine," he said, holding his hands up in defence. "I'll get a coke."_

"_I'll have one too," she said with a smile._

"_Yeah," Ron said. Harry rolled his eyes. _

"_I'm the one that's not supposed to be getting off my face, mate, not you. Cider?"_

"_Please," Ron said, relieved, and Hermione smacked him on the arm. "What? He offered."_

_Fred nodded for his regular and Harry made a quick stop in the loo before going back to the bar. It was still fairly buzzing, despite the fact that they were getting on to 11pm, but Harry liked that. When the night wound down he'd be going back to the flat alone._

"_Two pints of Thatchers Gold," Harry said to the guy behind the bar. "And two cokes, please."_

"_That'll be six quid please, mate," the guy said. "And your phone number?"_

_Harry laughed as he handed over a note. "Really?"_

_The man was tall, rangy, with light brown hair and dark brown eyes that he framed with thick rimmed glasses. There was a dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose and he wore a loose black t-shirt over jeans. When he poured the pints, the long muscles in his forearms gently sculpted his skin. He was cute, Harry decided._

"_Well," the guy said, "I figure one of a few things could happen." The till pinged open as Cute Barman processed the transaction. "You could be straight, or taken, or generally offended. Or, you could be gay, and single, and interested."_

"_I'm gay," Harry said cautiously, pocketing the change._

"_One point," Cute Barman said, smiling and leaning forward with his hands braced on the polished wood._

"_And I'm single." The word almost caught in his throat, but he said it._

"_Two points..."_

"_And I'm... fuck. Really quite screwed up."_

_Cute Barman shrugged. "Aren't we all, love." He extended his hand. "Hi. I'm Will."_


	45. forty five

_A/N: Do you ever sit at home and read Unbroken and think to yourself - "hmm, I don't know. There just doesn't seem to be enough going on for my liking"?  
>Me too.<br>This is Luna's story._

* * *

><p><em><span>Unbroken - Luna's Story<span>_

When the Prophet ran an advertisement for an Impossible Job on behalf of the Auror office, Luna Lovegood read it while eating a triangle of buttered toast, sat cross legged on top of a washing machine in a Muggle laundrette.

The laundrette in question occupied the ground floor of the building where she lived and she found that among the hustle and bustle of inner city London, it was here that she found a space in which she could really think. A rumbling washing machine will do that for a girl.

This early in the morning the only person around was old Mrs Beauchance who was approaching eighty seven years old and had cataracts, meaning even her milk bottle thick glasses couldn't make out the moving pictures on the newspaper.

But the advert.

It wasn't like Luna didn't have a job already, but she was discovering (to her great disappointment) that her career as an artist didn't pay quite all the bills. The Impossible Job was to be for six months and paid rather well to the person who was willing to take on the challenge.

As someone who refused to believe in the impossible, Luna decided to send an owl to Neville and ask for his advice.

Two weeks later she was being shown into a large, airy room deep within the Ministry after signing all sorts of disclaimers and forms and agreements that ensured she would not leak secrets to the press. Or anyone else, for that matter.

Auror Watson was less than a year from retirement and had been given the job of organising the archives within the Auror department. After discovering the scale of the job he had promptly arranged for it to be contracted out. He was a portly man with an impressive moustache and a growing bald patch at the back of his head.

For her first day in the job Luna had worn her best purple dress and nicest orange tights (the ones with no holes at all) and her favourite radish earrings, the ones she had made while still in school. She'd brushed and braided her hair and even worn her tortoiseshell glasses - the ones she didn't really need but helped decipher particularly flowery handwriting.

"The last time the archives were sorted was 1973," Auror Watson said as he threw open the door.

"And since then?" Luna asked.

"Well, it's in some sort of order," Auror Watson said, fidgeting from one foot to the other. "In the sense that when we get new stuff, we extend the room backwards and shift all the boxes back with it. Then stack the new boxes in front."

"And you've been doing this..."

"Since 1973, yes."

"Ah."

"So," he said, clasping his hands behind his back and rocking onto his heels, "if you need me I'll be in my office."

And he shut the door behind him on his way out.

The guidelines Luna had been given were thus:

Do not throw anything away.

Where possible, track down the owners of the stuff and return it to them.

Where the owners are dead, unlocatable or incarcerated, track down next of kin and offer it to them.

Re-label each box with its contents and copy this onto a masterlist for the department.

Do not throw anything away.

As guidelines went, they were fairly loose.

As the weeks rolled on, Luna developed a method to her logging. She would open a box, cast a _Wingardium Leviosa_ on the contents and suspend them midair while a Quick Quotes Quill took her dictation of the contents. She would read the card included by the Auror who originally worked the case to see who the possessions belonged to and another Quick Copy Quill (a WWW product) penned a letter to the owners, ready to be sent by a Ministry owl to their last known address.

As methods went, it was fairly successful.

Luna worked with a wireless and frequent visits from her friends for company.

About a month into the job she had finished off the boxes from the seventies and had started work on the boxes from the early eighties. By now her methodology was sound and she worked with a lightness that came from deep job satisfaction.

Case number 7213 had several boxes attached to it and many of the contents had been shrunk. This in itself was not unusual. She cast her levitation charm and hummed along to a song on the wireless as she plucked the Auror's case card from midair and cast a quick eye over the items before scanning the details of the case.

Luna's heart thudded hard in her chest, flew to her throat then dropped to her stomach. Her fingers were suddenly too insubstantial to hold onto the card and it fluttered to the floor as a cry of distress escaped from her lips. Her hands quickly came to cover them.

Even from the floor she could quite clearly, thanks to her tortoiseshell glasses, read the words printed on the card.

_Potter Murders  
>Godric's Hollow<br>October 1981_

* * *

><p><em>Guidance notes: This is part of the 'present time' thread of the story.<br>It's not finished.  
>That is all.<em>


	46. forty six

_Unbroken - Luna's Story - Part 2_

Luna took infinitely more care logging this case than she had with any of the others. Her Quick Quotes Quill was discarded and instead she retrieved her best raven's feather quill and her own fine parchment to hand write the list of belongings.

After examining and filing several hundred boxes, she had developed a system that was not detached, not impersonal, but still fittingly brief so that it didn't take all day to log the contents of one box.

For this case she sat and examined each item carefully. She did not write _one pair of dress robes, slightly worn_ as she had dictated so many times over_._ Instead, she wrote _pale blue silk evening gown with pearl detail._

She did not write _six pairs of trousers._ She wrote_ faded Levi's 501 jeans - men's 30 inch waist. _

She did not write _ female toiletries. _She wrote _antique glass perfume bottle, half full, contents lavender scented. _

On and on and on; baby toys, clothes, books... photographs, things that surely should have been damaged when the house the Potters had lived in collapsed but maybe she was underestimating the perseverance of the Aurors who had methodically collected these things from the wreckage.

_One wand. Appears to be mahogany. Some small scorch marks._

_One wand. Appears to be willow. Damage to the tip, but presumed to be in working order. _

_Red leather bound diary, entries from 1974 to 1979._

_Two sets of OWL test certificates. Two sets of NEWT test certificates. _

_Twenty seven books._

_A stack of letters bound with string. Unopened during the process of logging. _

_One diamond ring._

_Small wooden chest. Locked. _

It took several hours, but she continued, item by item, with her list.

Only when it was complete did Luna allow herself to cry.

xXx

Auror Watson had granted Luna access to various sources of information should she need it while attempting to locate next of kin. One of these was a log book which detailed which Aurors had worked on each case where evidence had been stored, and it was to this log that Luna headed after she finished grieving.

Since most of the Aurors were at lunch the reference room was fairly quiet; they were also used to her presence now and she was uninterrupted as she pulled the tome from its shelf, then turned to the right month of the right year to locate the names she needed.

From this she could cross reference the names on another list of all the Aurors who had worked for the Ministry in the past six hundred years.

She was upset, but not surprised to learn that the Aurors who had salvaged so much from the ruined Potter house had been murdered by rogue Death Eaters only a matter of days after the house had been cleared.

It went some way to explaining why no one knew that these boxes existed, for surely someone would have attempted to contact Harry Potter and reunite him with his parent's things. It was heartbreaking for her to realise that in 1981 the Potters had no next of kin. There was no one to take in their possessions and keep them safe until they were ready to be passed on to their son.

From what she knew of Harry's history she doubted that his aunt and uncle would have allowed magical objects into their house. And so, with not a soul in the world knowing they existed, the Potter's belongings sat alone on a shelf in unmarked boxes, waiting for Luna to open them.

She needed permission to remove anything from the Auror department but this was not difficult to obtain; a few forms, a few signatures and a document that she would need Harry to sign too to say that he'd accepted everything. If he accepted everything.

There was a part of her that questioned if this was a good idea - Harry had spent most of his childhood reconciling with the fact of his parent's murders. To drag it all up again when he'd just settled down seemed unnaturally cruel... but there was no other way about it. She couldn't forget what she'd learned.

With the boxes shrunk and carefully packed in her backpack Luna left the Auror department early for the day and headed out towards the Atrium. It was fairly quiet, only the intermittent roar from a Floo interrupting her walk towards the Apparition point. She hadn't called ahead. There was no way to prepare him for this.


	47. forty seven

_A/N: News and updates at the end. Story first._

* * *

><p>"I miss Saturdays."<p>

"That's a funny thing to miss," Charlie said and gently skimmed his fingertips over the expanse of Harry's chest. "They're still there, I promise. Right between Friday and Sunday, where they've always been."

"Oh, fuck off. You know what I mean."

"I don't, actually," Charlie said lightly.

Harry turned his head just to make sure the expression on Charlie's face didn't give away that he was taking the piss.

"They just don't _mean_ anything any more."

"Ah."

"Don't _ah_ me you miserable fucker." Silently, Charlie raised an eyebrow, inviting Harry to continue. "When you do the same thing every day the weekend just doesn't feel special."

"Do you miss the fact that it's special because it's a break? Or do you miss the things we did together on a Saturday?"

"If you mean our Saturday fuck-fests, then I think we've been doing okay on keeping those going so far. I mean, we didn't leave the house last weekend."

Charlie flattened his hand down over Harry's stomach and admired the way his wedding ring looked on his finger. Without addressing the movement at all, Harry moved his hand to lace his fingers with Charlie's.

It had been a quiet day for them both; Harry had been alone for most of the morning, taking a solo trip into London for groceries, returning in time to meet Charlie as he came home from work. It was now six, the afternoon starting to slowly melt into evening as they laid together in bed, post-coital, dreamy.

"I think I'm going to take the teaching job."

"Really?"

To his credit, Charlie didn't make the one word sound mocking, or sarcastic, or disbelieving. It was a genuine enquiry, a request for reasons.

"Yeah. I need something... something..."

"More?"

"I suppose so. I need meaning and purpose beyond being your husband. That'll be enough to last a for the rest of our lives but I need something other than that too."

"I think that's a very healthy attitude to have. And I think you'll make a good teacher."

Harry shrugged. "I don't know about that."

"Harry." Charlie waited until Harry had scooted down on the bed, then curled his hand around Harry's cheek to physically hold his attention. "You have the most solid moral compass of anyone I've ever known. You do stupid shit sometimes, and we fucked around our relationship more than any other couple in the history of the world, but you know the difference between right and wrong. And honest to God, I cannot think of another person who would be better teaching children about the Dark Arts."

"Really." Harry did manage to make the word sarcastic.

"Yes, really. You've never once doubted yourself before. Don't you fucking dare start now."

Harry snorted. "I don't doubt myself. I'm Harry fucking Potter."

"That's the man I know and love."

With a real sense of indulgence, Harry let a slow smile spread across his face.

Then there was a knock at the door.

"Ignore it," Harry said, scratching his blunt fingernails through Charlie's hair.

Charlie groaned and rubbed his face, then reached over the edge of the bed for his boxers.

"Ignore it!"

"I can't. What if it's my mum? She'll come in regardless."

Huffing, Harry reached for his own underwear. The person at the door knocked again.

"Coming!" Charlie yelled.

"Now, that sounds familiar," Harry said, and earned himself a smack in the arm.

As he made his way down the hallway Charlie hopped into his jeans and swung the door open to a very pale Luna.

"Hey," Charlie said with a warm, genuine smile. Then, "are you alright, darling?"

She nodded, her lips pressed tightly together. "Can I come in?"

"Of course."

Over Luna's head Charlie caught Harry's eyes as he came out of the bedroom on his Firebolt. Harry frowned. Charlie shrugged.

He showed her through to the living room where she sat, clutching her backpack on her lap.

"How's the Auror department treating you?" Harry asked as he settled down into an arm chair and propped the broomstick up next to him.

"Fine," she said, her voice sounding hoarse, then again, "fine. I, um, could I have a glass of water?"

She turned to Charlie with her request; he nodded an 'of course' and left for the kitchen.

"Luna?" Harry said. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I found something," she said, her eyes wide, haunted.

"Okay," Harry said slowly as Charlie returned. "What did you find?"

"Boxes... boxes of things that were salvaged. From the house. After... after... after he killed your mum and dad," she finished in a whisper.

Frozen, Harry tried to process unknown emotions as they swirled in his stomach.

"What sort of things?" he asked and felt Charlie's wide hand press down on his shoulder in reassurance as his husband took a seat on the arm of his chair. They both needed the closeness, and the contact.

"Do you want them?" Luna asked. "You don't have to take anything. But if you want, I have them."

"Right now?"

She silently held out her backpack.

Harry took it.

It was the work of moments to unpack the boxes, to set them on the floor and return them, with a spell, to their proper size.

"Harry," Charlie said. "You don't have to do this. Not right away."

"No... I do."

The first box he opened contained their wands. He selected the willow one first, silently, carefully turning it over between his fingers.

"This was my mum's," he said softly. No one challenged his assertion. He was right, after all.

Then he carefully picked up his father's wand. Swallowed.

"_Priori Incantato."_

From the end of James Potter's wand came the echo of the last spell he'd cast with it – a stream of bubbles for his infant son.

The trio watched as the ghost bubbles burst, one by one, and when the last one disappeared in the faintest wisp of smoke Harry lowered the wand.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm –"

He Disapparated and Charlie went to grab him, holding himself back at the last moment in case he accidentally took himself too by side-along and ended up splinching them both. Turning back, preparing to chase him, Charlie caught sight of Luna still sitting on the sofa. Silent tears flowed down her cheeks.

"Oh, darling," Charlie said.

As he gathered her up in a hug he heard Harry in the bedroom – so he hadn't gone far after all – and rocked Luna gently from side to side.

"I didn't know what to do," she sobbed as Charlie ran his hand over the back of her head. "I didn't want to hurt him but I couldn't keep it from him…"

"You did the right thing," Charlie assured her, his voice low, soothing. "He just needs some time."

Luna nodded and sniffled into his shirt. He tucked a stray lock of summer-blonde hair behind her ear and gently touched the amber stone in her earring.

"We bought you these for your birthday," he murmured.

"Yeah," she said, looking up at him from red rimmed eyes. "They're my favourite."

* * *

><p><em>Another AN: Wooooahhhh it's been a long time since I updated!  
>Fear not, dear readers (the ones I have left, anyway) I will not abandon you. Since I posted last I've started a new job, moved house, published a novel and broke up with my boyfriend (it was inevitable, I'm cool with it.) Needless to say, I'm a tad busy.<br>I will be heading off to Edinburgh again in a few weeks which always gives me loads of HP-writing inspiration, so hopefully I'll pick up a bit more of a regular writing and posting schedule.  
>If you're still reading - thank you. I hope you're still enjoying too.<em>


	48. forty eight

_August 2002_

_Unsurprisingly, it was Hermione who got the joke first. Harry was at their place on a Friday night for fish and chips; it was a weekly routine although they varied the location between Ron and Hermione's, and Harry's flat. _

_Out of nowhere she snorted and covered her mouth with her hand to hide her giggles._

"_What?" Ron demanded._

"_You're like William and Harry," she said, gasping for breath. _

"_Yeah, so?"_

"_Like the princes. The Muggle princes, the Queen's grandchildren?"_

_Ron shrugged. Harry glowered. _

"_Really, Ronald, did you pay no attention at all during Muggle Studies?"_

"_You know I didn't," he said and kissed the top of her head._

_His best friends knew a little bit about Will, but not much. It was hard to hide from them the fact that he'd met someone since he never did take those four drinks back over to the table; he'd hopped up onto a barstool instead to talk to this new, intriguing person. In the end Fred had come over, helped himself to his pint and winked at Harry before leaving him to it._

_The whole mess was complicated by the fact that the people in his life who he was closest to were Charlie's brothers and his sister and sister-in-law. Despite the fact that it had been Ron who had encouraged him to let go, to see where the world would take him, he didn't want to rub the fact that he'd met someone in his face. _

_Sometimes his family felt far too incestuous. _

_The rules surrounding the Statute of Secrecy were understandably severe and frustratingly archaic. It was for this reason that Harry had decided that he wasn't going to go down that long and arduous route to try and get permission to tell Will that he was a wizard, and instead had told the other man that he worked in a special branch of the police._

_It wasn't a lie, exactly._

_They'd been on exactly two dates since Harry's birthday; one pre-arranged meeting at a pub not far from the one they met in, and a few days later, after spending the day sat home alone, Harry had turned up when he knew Will would be finishing his shift and offered to buy him a pint._

_It was strange, this funny dance they were doing, neither yet quite sure how to approach what they were both afraid to refer to as a relationship. After Will asked for his phone number Harry had scratched it down onto the back of a beer mat and had received a call a few days later. _

"_You've got a landline," Will had said when he answered._

"_Yeah..."_

"_I wanted your mobile number. You know, so I could text you."_

_And then Harry had been forced to lie about breaking his phone and not replacing it yet. The landline had been one thing - it came as part of the flat - that's what happened when you moved into a Muggle neighbourhood after all. And since it was already hooked up to BT and only cost a few quid a month to maintain, he left it there. _

_Sometimes Hermione phoned him; Dean did too, and sometimes Terry Boot, the few of his friends who were Muggle born and never quite managed to break the habit of picking up a phone to make contact._

"_I like it, actually," Harry had told Will. "I like that people don't have immediate access to me."_

"_You know what... I kind of see where you're coming from."_

_And that was that. And Harry didn't buy a mobile phone after all._


	49. forty nine

_A/N: Wow. Long break there. Sorry about that. I very much had a picture in my mind of how I wanted this chapter to be, and it took a while to get there. Life is a little crazy for me right now but I'll update again as soon as I can. Thanks to everyone who is still following!_

* * *

><p>Over a period of a few weeks Harry started to unpack Luna's boxes and integrated his parents' belongings into the home he shared with Charlie. Their wands, for example, now lived on his bedside table, just inches away from where he kept his own every night when he went to bed. Photographs made their way onto the mantle place. Clothes were unpacked, admired, very carefully cleaned of their dust and repacked.<p>

After a cursory glance Harry placed the red leather journal to one side. It was clearly his father's and covered the time period from his OWL qualifications to just after he'd left Hogwarts. It wasn't just a personal journal – it contained what seemed like revision notes as well and the like and Harry was keen to dedicate time to looking through it properly, not just skimming the contents.

So it was some time later when he finally got to reading it.

And discovered something amazing.

He devoured the book in the space of a day, skipping nothing and quickly learning how to interpret his father's untidy scrawl. There were passages dedicated to his mother, others dedicated to his own parents and best friends.

And whole sections of the book detailing how they created the Marauder's Map, lines upon lines of information about how they'd mapped the school, stolen documents from the Hogwarts library to help them, taught the parchment how to recognise anyone who walked the hallways or grounds. Instructions and ideas on how to keep it safe, keep it concealed. How to ensure it was never stolen from them. How to keep the enchantments it contained secret.

James had written his desire to pass it down to his son, one day. A son James imagined would be best friends with Sirius and Remus and Peter's children.

Harry marked the pages with scraps of paper, knowing that he would take this to Fred and George as soon as he could, to share with them the triumph of learning the origins of their favourite aid to mischief-making.

He turned more pages.

And started to read how James and Sirius had started to study yet more stolen books. Books that would teach them how to become Animagus.

xXx

"What are you reading?" Charlie asked when he arrived home, finding Harry sat on the sofa devouring the journal like it held the secrets to his past. It probably did, he thought.

"My dad's journal," Harry said. When he looked up Charlie recognised a brightness in his partner's eyes that he hadn't seen in a long time. It felt like a very long time. "He recorded how they became Animagus."

"Wow," Charlie said. He sat down on the arm of the sofa, ran his hand over the back of Harry's head. "Have you learned anything?"

"Yeah," Harry laughed. "My dad was nearly as badass as I was."

"Still are," Charlie corrected him, smiling too.

"They just – fuck. Stole shit, snuck around – this was after they'd created the Marauder's Map, so they had that handy – this has all the details on how they made that, too, wanna know?"

"Animagus?" Charlie prompted gently.

"Yeah, sorry. They had Dad's invisibility cloak, and they stole McGonagall's books right out of her office. Well, Sirius did it while Dad distracted her about homework. He wrote it all in here."

"Did he say which book? Maybe she would lend it to you."

Harry nodded. "I thought of that. Sent Lady up to her with a message asking."

"Good plan. Anything else?"

"Sort of… it's impressions I'm getting more than the actual words. They were really good students, you know, they all got good grades, Dad and Sirius and Remus anyway." And his refusal to mention Pettigrew was telling. "Plus Dad was going out with Mum and Sirius was going out with someone called Frances. And they played Quidditch. And they were doing all this in their spare time. I've got no idea how they managed it."

"They were intelligent men."

"Yeah," Harry said. "It's weird. I've never felt this close to my dad before, and it's awesome. But I'm also learning exactly what I've missed all these years he wasn't here."

Charlie smiled and ran his fingers through his hair, then gently took the book from Harry and set it on the table next to the sofa. Harry still had issues with asking for affection; fortunately for him, Charlie had something of a sixth sense and knew when it was time to draw his partner into his arms.

It was that time of day when afternoon starts to seep into evening, not quite yet dusk, but when the sky starts to feel heavier with impending darkness. They laid on the wide sofa, arms and legs tangled together and slick mouths exploring what they already knew; the angle of a jaw, the taste of a collarbone, the deep, intimate heat of the other's tongue.

After a long, long time of kissing, just kissing, Harry slid his hand under the soft fabric of Charlie's shirt and slowly started to push it up. With a smile Charlie pulled away, ran his nose up the side of Harry's.

In this light Charlie's eyes looked dark, night sky blue and even without his glasses Harry could appreciate the beauty in them.

"You wanna go to bed?"

Harry nodded.

Although he usually hated being carried anywhere, it was easier for this short distance to let Charlie heft him up into his arms to take him through to the bedroom rather than try and get the crutches and splints, or the Firebolt.

And Charlie would lay him down on the bed with upmost care.

"Can I try something?" Charlie asked, his voice low, rough.

"Of course."

Charlie reached for his wand and held himself slightly above the bed for a moment, muttered an incantation that drew Harry's hands together completely against his will, lifted them up, over his head and bound them there.

"Kinky," Harry said with lopsided smirk.

Charlie laughed, although his voice was slightly shaky. "I want you," he said, his eyes darkening. "And I want all of you."

Had his arms been free Harry would have reached for him, then, so maybe it was his eyes that conveyed the desperation for the weight of another man on his body. Charlie didn't disappoint.

The rest of their clothes were stripped hastily and discarded around the room, then Charlie settled himself in the space between Harry's spread legs. With the edge of desperation still brewing between them Charlie's lips crashed down to Harry's again, asking, demanding, taking.

With slick fingers Charlie gently explored Harry's hole, twisting and pushing and drawing exquisite sounds from the throat of his lover, until there was no use, he couldn't wait any longer, and slowly… slowly… pushed his cock inside.

For Harry, there was always that initial feeling that it was wrong. His body just wasn't meant to do this, he wasn't built to accept another person inside him. That faded away when he looked, just looked at Charlie and realised the same thing every time - he was built to accept _this _person inside him. Maybe that was why no other man ever had been.

With his arms restrained above his head Harry searched for lips instead and the infinite variety of kisses they could exchange. He needed reassurance first and Charlie knew this, pressing soft, warm lips to his over and over, tentative brushes over cheeks and his throat and his neck.

Harry was loud, he knew this, even the rush of blood in his ears seemed loud right then but he couldn't care... the feeling was too intense not to be vocalised.

It took less time than it usually did for both men to get right to the edge, the combination of the light bondage, Harry's turn to bottom, and the built up emotion of the day winding their bodies tight, expanding the need for each other into something more, an undefinable _more_…

Harry was used to waiting, being the one to state '_you first'_ when they made love. And even though there were no steadfast rules, he'd always felt it was common courtesy to let the bottom come first. He tugged experimentally at his wrists, decided to leave them there rather than release a hand to stroke himself, and instead concentrated on the feel of Charlie moving inside him. When he thought about it, it was beautiful.

Charlie shuddered, pressed his lips to Harry's neck and noticeably changed the rhythm of his hips to shorter thrusts, silently begging his partner to come with him. Twisting in Charlie's arms, Harry sought out soft lips, and kissed through his orgasm.

While catching their breath, hearts hammering, Charlie held on tight.

When Harry's hands skimmed down the expanse of Charlie's wide back, he wasn't altogether surprised. The spell he'd bound Harry's wrists with was strong enough to subdue dragons. He hadn't even felt Harry release himself from it.

"Do you need me to move?" Charlie mumbled into Harry's neck.

"No," Harry said softly. "I quite like you there, actually."

"You're better at cleaning-up spells that I am," Charlie said, somewhat hopefully, and Harry snorted. But it was true, he couldn't deny it, and sent a too-cold spell towards their mashed together, sticky groins with a smirk.

Charlie shivered and rolled off him. "Thanks for that."

"You're welcome."

Wanting the security of Harry's body curled around his own, Charlie rolled to his side and waited patiently while Harry rearranged his body and uncooperative legs.

"Charlie?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"And…"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

A sigh of deep contentment. "I love you too."


	50. fifty

_September 2002 _

_Harry passed Hermione the letter and waited as she scanned it. _

"_Is there any way around this?" he asked._

_She set the paper down and thought. He could tell she was thinking, she was making her thinking face. He'd seen it enough to recognise it. _

"_I don't think so," she said slowly. "I mean, you could try to argue against it… I suppose it depends on how much it means to you."_

"_I want to go back to work," Harry said emphatically. "I'm sick of doing nothing. I'm doing better. They know that."_

"_And they're completely within their rights to make sure you're completely fit for work," she countered. "Your job isn't a walk in the park, Harry. You need to be on top of your game if you're going to do it properly."_

"_I'm never off my game." His words were more than confident, they were edging into cocky. But that edge was what made him such a good Auror. He knew it, the department knew it, and he knew what this was all about, really._

"_They want to see what I can do," Harry said. _

_Hermione looked at him, then nodded warily. "Probably. Yes."_

_When he first took the tests to assess his capabilities, to see if he had what it took to become an Auror, the wizarding world was still reeling from the aftermath of the War. He was put through his paces, for sure, but it wasn't until he was a few years into the job that senior members of the Ministry expressed a desire to really push Harry's magical abilities. It was widely known that he was capable of great things, extraordinary things. And, in any normal circumstances, when he joined the Auror department, they would have dug those extraordinary things out from the very beginning. _

_But with their numbers so greatly depleted from battles, the Ministry was ready to welcome Harry Potter into their ranks without risking upsetting him. _

_When he was approached and asked to spend time in the test environment, he turned them down. Much to Hermione's displeasure. Harry got the impression that she was as eager to see what he really could do as anyone else. They'd poked, and prodded, and asked, and wheedled and once, Kingsley had begged. And Harry had continued to say no. _

_For too many years he'd been looked on as a freak, or some wonder boy. He didn't want to go through that again. _

_Or worse, have it proven that he wasn't actually as good as they all thought he was. The illusion was far greater than the reality. Of that he was sure. Only now they were taking that illusion away from him. They were going to get what they wanted all along. And, what was grating the worst, they were going to do it on their own terms, not his._

_That night, Will came over. _

"_Work are putting me through some tests before I'm allowed to go back."_

_It was surprising, really, how easy it was for Harry to moderate the truth in order to share details of his life with Will. _

"_That's understandable, I suppose," Will said. He'd brought dinner round with him, Chinese food that was spread out over Harry's coffee table. They were sat on the floor to eat, leaning back against the sofa watching Saturday night TV. "When do you have to go in?"_

"_Next week sometime," Harry said. "I'm waiting to hear from my boss."_

"_Well, don't stress. Do your best – you can't do any more than that."_

_The reassurance was nice, but better than that was having someone there to give it to him. _

_They weren't sleeping together yet, which was a surprise to both Harry and Harry's dick. Although a fair amount of time was spent snogging and groping, things just hadn't progressed to the next level yet. Harry, for his part, was trying not to think about why. _

_After serious consideration, Harry decided that there was no other way about it, he'd asked the department not to put him through the testing and they'd insisted it was necessary. So he had to man up and do it. _

_And the date was scheduled. _

_An owl was sent telling him he needed to present himself at the Ministry for 8 a.m., too early for his liking, but the actual testing didn't start until ten. Before that was briefings, too many briefings, paperwork, checking his wand for any faults, checking his body for any signs of physical damage. That was fun – standing bare ass naked in front of a Healer being poked and prodded in some rather tender areas. The bastard also insisted on checking his scar, and his eyesight, which just served to piss Harry off even more. _

_Finally, they were ready, and he was led into an arena sized room which he was sure he hadn't seen before. Dressed in jeans, trainers and a loose t-shirt – no robes, at his insistence – he was, at least, comfortable. _

_The testing was mostly made up of simulated environments where he'd be forced to put his Auror training to use. So he was thrust into hostage situations, massacres, explosions, raids, battles. Each designed to test his skill, cunning, resourcefulness, reactions, speed and concentration. _

_There was no backup, no chance to breathe or ask anyone for their assistance, or opinion; each moment was his to make those snap decisions which could mean life or death for himself or someone else._

_By the time the first hour was done, he was exhausted, sweating, aching. _

_The wizard running the tests came in from wherever they'd been watching to hand him a bottle of water. _

"_Thanks," Harry said gratefully, wiping the sweat from his forehead and drinking deeply. _

"_Not quite done yet," he was told. "A few more rounds to go."_

_Harry nodded, resigned. _

_He was somewhat surprised, when he returned, to learn that his next opponent was a person, rather than a situation. Harry was sure he knew the Auror, although they'd never worked closely together. Rosewarne was part of the training team, a tall, broad man who'd retired from active service many years before. Still, he was a formidable opponent. _

_The paperwork he'd signed dictated that no Unforgivables would be used during the testing; those aside, anything was fair game._

"_Come on, old man," Harry taunted. "Show me what you've got."_

_Rosewarne sneered. He was an ugly bastard, Harry thought, as he sent his first hex flying._

_It didn't take long for Harry to start blowing things up. He was feeling pissed off and self-righteous, which was bad news for the Ministry. Really, it was Rosewarne's fault – he kept ducking behind things for cover and what was Harry supposed to do but blow them up? And was it really his fault if some of his blowing-things-up spells were slightly off target?_

_Problem was, it wasn't just Rosewarne he was fighting. Within a few minutes it became clear that the one opponent wasn't making much of a dent in Harry's defence, and they started sending in reinforcements. For the other side. _

_These reinforcements had been given Polyjuice, or else some seriously good Glamours, because they looked like his friends. _

_First Ron, then Neville and Hermione, Ginny, Luna… he knew it wasn't really them, he was too familiar with their fighting style to be fooled. But it still hurt to throw hexes at the faces of people he loved._

_He was six-to-one down, but still holding fairly strong and wishing he had access to his invisibility cloak. _

"_Fuck," he muttered to himself. "Are you a wizard or not?"_

_He cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself, pretty sure that this wasn't against the rules. He hadn't been paying all that much attention earlier in the day. They hadn't given him coffee at that point. _

_The next lot of adversaries that were sent in were worse. Dressed as Death Eaters, they were clearly designed to test his emotional stability. As he took a deep breath and started to fire off spells on instinct rather than from any solid plan, he hoped, hoped to god that they weren't planning on sending a Voldemort lookalike in after him. _

_That thought alone had him securing the Death Eaters with little real resistance on their part. And a call was made again to halt the testing. _

_Another bottle of water. But this time handed to him by someone far more familiar. _

"_Kingsley," Harry said genially, attempting to catch his breath. "You fucking bastard. How the fuck are you?"_

_Clearly unoffended, Kingsley chuckled, a rumble that seemed to start in his belly. "Not at all bad, my friend. Would you care to do one last round?"_

"_Not really," Harry said. "I'm a bit knackered, to be honest."_

"_I can't force you to…" Kingsley said. "But you'd only have one opponent this time."_

_Harry's heart sank. _

_Kingsley smiled. "Me."_

"_Oh," Harry said with a laugh. _

"_You'd be doing me a favour…"_

"_Yeah, why not," Harry said, pushing sweaty hair back from his face. "You'll owe me one, though."_

"_I don't forget them."_

_Tired, and hot, and uncomfortable due to this, Harry stripped off his t-shirt and walked into the centre of the test room, right out in the open, jeans falling dangerously low on his hips. He rolled his shoulders, stretched his neck to either side. There wasn't going to be any hiding or explosions this time, just one wizard against another. _

_Kingsley, in deep purple robes, seemed to be the complete opposite to Harry. Calm, collected, clean. Clothed._

_For some reason Harry was reminded of an ill-fated duelling club from his second year of school – those rules of conduct suddenly seemed to apply once again. After all, Kingsley was a gentleman, a man of honour. _

_Harry cast the first spell. _


	51. fifty one

_A/N: I know it's been forever since I updated. Unfortunately this whole 'writing books' thing has turned from a hobby into a career. God only knows when that happened; still, it means that something had to be bumped down my priority list, and sadly this was it!  
><em>_I'm not sure if anyone is still reading, but I'm going to keep posting just in case. I've had writers abandon stories that I was really into before, and it **sucks.** Even if there's only one reader left, to me, it's worth writing just for you._  
><em>So, thank you, whoever you are, for giving me a reason to keep going!<em>

* * *

><p>When Ron and Hermione let themselves in through the Floo, the first thing they heard was a long, drawn out moan of pleasure.<p>

"Should we go home?" Ron asked, his voice hushed.

"They knew we were on our way," Hermione hissed back. "Plus, I think I'd quite enjoy interrupting them mid-shag."

They were to be disappointed; on walking through to the living room Hermione found harry sprawled on the sofa, Charlie on the floor in front of him massaging the arch of his foot.

"Fuck, that feels good," Harry said.

"Are we interrupting something?" Hermione asked sweetly.

"Yes. Fuck off," Harry said.

"Stop it, you," Charlie chastised him. After planting a kiss on the top of Harry's foot, Charlie unfolded himself and pulled first Hermione, then Ron into a hug. "Dinner won't be long," he said. "Make yourself at home."

Ron held up a bottle of wine and raised his eyebrows, following his brother through to the kitchen to decant it into glasses while Hermione sat down at the other end of the sofa. In a wine coloured dress with her hair worn loose, Hermione looked relaxed and at home. Which, of course, she practically was. She kicked off her shoes and nudged them under the coffee table, then put her feet up on it.

Like this, her pregnancy was more obvious. They had made the announcement a few weeks previously and she'd now stopped being sick every morning, which put her in an infinitely better mood.

Hugo was spending the evening at his grandmother's; Nana Granger, who didn't have any other grandchildren.

"So," she said lightly. "Foot fetish?"

"Fuck off, Hermione," Harry said with a laugh.

"Your language is atrocious."

"I know." He didn't sound too bothered by the fact.

"How's the reading going?"

Ron and Hermione, and Luna, of course, were among the few people who knew Harry had been studying his dad's old journal. He was still working through it, trying to decide on whether following in his father's footsteps and learning to become an Animagus was a good idea, or a very foolish one. It didn't help that everyone seemed to have their own (often conflicting) opinions.

"It's going," he said. He leaned over to pluck the red leather journal from a drawer in the coffee table and handed it to her. "Take a look – I marked the page."

With the prospect of learning something new looming, Hermione tucked her feet up underneath herself and fell silent to read. Harry was amused but wisely didn't say so.

Charlie and Ron returned with three large glasses of wine, and one much smaller one, and Harry accepted his gratefully. For reasons Harry had never quite figured out, Ron had an excellent skill at picking out good wine.

When warm lips found the back of his neck, Harry turned to share a kiss with his husband. This kind of easy affection was one of the highlights of his day – his _life_ – and he'd vowed never to take it for granted. Good friends, good food, an amazing partner… Harry knew what the last piece of the puzzle was.

All he had to do now was pluck up the courage to go and get it.


	52. fifty two

_A/N: I'm touched and a little overwhelmed at the response to the last chapter. I've always thought there was a little core following of a few people reading this and not many more - in this instance I'm happy to be wrong! And you all say such nice things about my writing. It's very humbling, so thank you, and please know how much I appreciate having such wonderful readers. _

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><p><span>September 2002<span>

_"Fuck, Harry," Ron said._

_Harry was pretty sure that Ron had said that at least three times now. Ron was sat on a bench outside the showers in the Ministry, waiting for Harry to finish scrubbing himself down._

"_Fuck, Harry. You Stunned and incapacitated the Minister for Magic. The Minister."_

"_He asked me to," Harry called from in the shower._

"_Yeah, but still. Fuck, Harry."_

"_Shut up, Ron."_

_He shut the water off, grabbed a towel and roughly dried his hair. After slipping his glasses back on he headed out to get changed. Ron didn't seem to care that he was bare-ass naked. _

_For what was supposed to be a closed-door testing, it sounded like there was hell of a lot of people in the viewing area. He wasn't aware, for example, that Ron and Hermione were there. But apparently they only turned up to watch Harry take on the Minister. Quite a few people turned up for that. _

"_When will I get the results?" Harry asked. "Do you know?"_

"_Not for sure," Ron said. "But it sounded good. Apparently you sailed through the second round. They thought you were reckless in the first round –"_

"_I'm always reckless," Harry said. "They've always known that."_

"_I know. But it depends if they'll hold it against you. The last bit was just for Kingsley's benefit. I heard someone say they wished Dumbledore was around. That would be one hell of a fight, mate."_

"_I reckon it would be close," Harry mused._

_Ron snorted. "Modest."_

"_No, really. He would have the experience, but I've got the speed."_

"_What about…" Ron started, then stopped himself. _

"_No, say it," Harry insisted. _

"_What about You Know Who?" Ron said. "Now, I mean. You now against him back then."_

_Harry shook his head. "I beat him back then."_

"_I know."_

"_With what I know now, I would just beat him quicker."_

_Ron laughed. With Harry once again dressed, he dragged his best friend into a rough embrace._

"_Thanks, mate. For being there today."_

"_No problem. Any time."_

xXx

_After he'd eaten in the Ministry canteen, with hundreds of people staring at him (good news sure did travel fast), he was led back into a smaller conference room with his head of department, Kingsley, Rosewarne and a few others. _

"_How are you, sir?" Harry asked, directing his question to Kingsley. It was cheeky, for sure, but he fancied his chances._

"_I'm fine," Kingsley said. "My ego appears to be rather bruised, but other than that I'm fine. And you, Harry? How are you feeling?"_

"_I'm feeling good, sir," he said. "Anxious to know what the results of the testing are."_

_A witch who was watching the exchange with interest gave a small cough, drawing attention to herself._

"_You were forced to fight against your friends, and did so willingly," she said. The distaste in her voice made Harry instantly dislike her. _

"_But they weren't my friends," Harry countered. "They were Polyjuiced."_

"_They had been trained to act like your friends," she said. "They had studied their wand movements, their mannerisms…"_

_Harry rolled his eyes. "I've fought alongside these people for years," he said bluntly. "I know when it's them and when it's not. The only one who was halfway convincing was Neville."_

_Someone looked guilty._

"_Ah fuck," Harry said and ran his hands over his face. "It was Nev, wasn't it? How is he?"_

"_Fine," Kingsley said. "He's just in the infirmary having his body parts returned to their normal size. He should be out shortly." _

"_He was the last one in," Harry said, feeling the need to explain. "I'd already established that the others were imposters, so I didn't look too closely at him."_

"_How could you tell?" Rosewarne asked._

"'_Luna' cast the first spell," Harry said. "That gave them all away from the start. Luna would never, ever cast the first attack. She only defends, or attacks in self-defence. And the imposter used a spell that Luna would never use, too._

"_The person who was 'Hermione' was studying out of date information," he continued. "When we were teenagers she was paced and thoughtful, now she's a fucking demon in a duel. She fights me and Ron all the time to keep herself up to speed." He shook his head. "Honestly, it looked amateurish."_

"_What about Mr Weasley?" _

_Harry cocked his head to the side. "At a guess, I'd say it was someone in the department. Someone who's watched him work, although maybe not worked with him. He was good, but not good enough."_

_Kingsley laughed uproariously and clapped his hands. "Spot on, Harry, spot on," he said. When Kingsley looked around the collected people at the table, he took control simply and with what looked like no effort at all. _

"_Colleagues, I am sure we can all agree that Mr Potter's physical, magical and emotional capabilities were thoroughly tested today and he has passed all of those tests with ease. I, for one, have no objections to him returning to the Auror force."_

_One by one, the witches and wizards around the table nodded their agreement. Despite Kingsley's words of support, Harry felt a little knot of tension in his chest release._

"_Excellent," Kingsley said, pulling his files together and standing, clearly dismissing the room. "Harry, a full breakdown of your results will be available to you next week. We'll see you nine o'clock on Monday." He turned and gave Harry a little wink. "Don't be late."_


	53. fifty three

_AN: Merry Christmas, friends._

* * *

><p>It took some arranging between Harry and the administration at Hogwarts to set him up as a member of staff. There wasn't just the terms of his employment to consider; he wasn't prepared to live in the school and both Apparition and Floo were still risky activities while he couldn't use his legs. A daily Portkey was arranged to take him straight into the small antechamber off the Great Hall where Hagrid would meet him.<p>

Then there was the issue that the Defence classroom was on the third floor. Trying to navigate the staircases with hundreds of children rushing to their classes would be an utter fucking nightmare, so he was going to use his Firebolt as his main method of transportation around the school, although he'd wear the splints too and keep his crutches in the classroom. Charlie bought another pair to keep at home.

Timetables were impossible to organise and he didn't want to have anything to do with homework at all if he could help it, which he couldn't, so he had to get his head around that concept rather quickly. Professor Grey had fairly strict guidelines on the grades she would accept for prospective NEWT students - Harry threw all of that out of the window and declared that anyone who wanted to learn was welcome in his class.

Because of the way he worked, most of the curriculum he changed was to make it more practical, less book based. As far as he was concerned, if kids wanted to learn the best way to do so was to actually get them doing the stuff. In other words, he was making his classes as obnoxiously opposite to the ideals of Delores Umbridge as he possibly could. Academic support was to be provided by a Miss Lowenstein, a young teacher who was still doing her training. She had been well briefed by both Professor Grey and Headmistress McGonagall that Harry would need guidance on the regulatory points that the Ministry tested on during OWL and NEWT examinations.

And then something strange happened.

Amongst all the planning and packing and swearing and searching for bits of information and arranging for robe fittings and good natured arguments with McGonagall and headache inducing forms, he started to look forward to it.

His first class was a group of Gryffindor and Slytherin third years.

Harry leaned back against his desk and contemplated the fact that he was the same age as these children when he first met Remus Lupin. Then he forced that thought from his mind.

"Good morning," he said with a bemused smile. A few students returned his greeting – the rest stared, open mouthed, as many had done since Headmistress McGonagall had introduced him to the assembled school at dinner the night before.

"My name is Harry Potter. I'm twenty eight years old, and since I left school I've worked as an Auror until I was involved an accident about a year ago which means I can't walk unaided."

They continued to stare.

One girl, a Slytherin, sat in the front row, raised her hand.

"Professor Potter?"

Harry winced. "Yes?"

"How long will you be teaching here?"

"I'm covering this class until Professor Grey has had her baby," he said. "And please don't call me 'professor'."

The same girl raised her hand again. "Then what should we call you, sir?"

He hadn't thought about this.

"I haven't earned the right to be a professor," he said, thinking aloud as this group of thirteen year olds regarded him with growing suspicion. "I'm not like some of your other teachers who have been doing this for longer than you've been alive. I earned the right to be 'Auror Potter' for a long time, but I'm not an Auror any more. And calling me 'Mr Potter' always makes me think I'm in trouble."

The Slytherin girl blinked wide brown eyes and broke into a smile.

"I think… I think you better call me Harry."

He did, of course, get in trouble for that. Got called to the headmistress's office, in fact, which caused him no end of amusement and got him in trouble with his husband at home. Which in turn caused even more amusement.

Harry was accused by other teachers, the ones who had previously taught him, of treating the DADA class as an unofficial extension of the DA. Which he was.

He was even using some of Hermione's old DA lesson plans that she'd dug out for him.

As the weeks wore on he got used to the questions, the ones about the war, and about Voldemort, and about evil in general. These were, after all, children who had been almost too young to really understand what had been going on in those dark few months before Voldemort's downfall. They were children who would never grow up with fear of a name. Not if Harry Potter had anything to say about it, anyway.

He took each question as a chance to teach something, be it _Expelliarmus_ or the various uses of Dittany or how to identify a Dark object. Every genuine enquiry was met with a measured, knowledgeable response and Harry openly admitted he was merely desperate to live up to the standard that Remus had set.

The way his class schedule was set meant that he taught for three and a half days a week, spent free periods marking homework and was always home in time to sit down and eat dinner with his husband. On Friday afternoons he still went to the Ministry to bug his friends and they now had a fairly regular routine of going to the pub for a quiet one before Hermione had to go and collect Hugo. Her pregnancy was starting to show, now.

On Thursdays, after dinner, Harry helped a group of fourth and fifth years set up a Defence Homework group, then promptly abandoned them to run it themselves. The three in charge (and why was it always three in charge, he wondered?) – Heather, Bert and Clara were some of his best students. Friday mornings frequently meant the three of them trudging up to his office to give him a progress report on who had been on the receiving end of a hex the night before. He was insanely proud of them.

With an unsettling sense of something that might have been routine, the months clunked on.


	54. fifty four

_October 2002_

_"Can I meet your family?" _

_It was the question Harry had been dreading. Really, truly dreading. He'd talked to Will plenty about his friends, even about his job and a bit about Charlie. But the topic of family had been strictly off-limits. It was a bit hypocritical, really, seeing as he'd met Will's sister already – Will's twin sister, to be precise, Tara. _

_"Harry?" Will asked. _

_"Shit, sorry," Harry mumbled. He ran his fingers through his hair, and reached for his pint. _

_They were sat in the beer garden of the pub where Will worked; he'd just finished his shift and had brought Harry a bowl of chips to enjoy with his drink and his smoke. Will sat patiently, waiting, as Harry took a long pull of his beer and settled his elbows back on the picnic bench. _

_"Thing is, I don't really have any. Family."_

_"Oh. Shit, I'm sorry, love."_

_"It's okay." Harry though about the best way to put it, then decided to go with honesty. "My mum and dad were murdered when I was a baby," he said. "The same guy was responsible for the deaths of quite a few other people as well."_

_"Fucking hell," Will said._

_"Yeah," Harry said on a short laugh. "I was raised by my aunt and uncle, who weren't really that great, and I went to boarding school when I turned eleven."_

_"Your aunt and uncle paid for boarding school?"_

_"No… my parents sort of left me a scholarship, I suppose. It was the school they both went to, and they fell in love there. It was important to them that I was educated there too. It's this place up in Scotland, way out of the way."_

_"And that's where you met Ron and Hermione."_

_"Yeah."_

_"Wow," Will said, playing with the edge of a beer mat, systematically shredding it. "I'm sorry," he repeated. _

_"Don't be," Harry said. "I've had plenty of time to come to terms with it. And Ron's family is my family now, you know? His mum – Molly – she sort of adopted me when I was a teenager."_

_"This is Charlie's mum too, though, right?"_

_"Yeah," Harry said, awkward once again._

_Will waited a few moments, then looked up. "Could I meet her, do you think?"_

_"What, Molly?"_

_"Yeah. I mean, only if you're out to them…"_

_"I'm out," Harry said, nodding. "Um… I'll talk to her, okay? I don't know what she'll say. But I promise I'll talk to her."_

_Will smiled. "That's good enough for me."_

_Molly thought it was a wonderful idea, much to Harry's distress. He explained that Will was a muggle, that he wouldn't understand. Arthur thought the idea of meeting in a muggle pub for lunch was an even better idea. Aware that he'd been completely backed into a corner, Harry agreed to set it up._

_xXx_

_They were mid-snog when there was a knock on the door. Harry prised his lips from Will's with extreme difficulty, groaned, and reached for his glasses. _

_"Ignore it," Will mumbled._

_If he did, the knocker would likely try to Apparate or Floo and he didn't really want to explain to his friends or family why the Floo was closed and he had anti-Apparition wards in place. It was easier to just answer it. _

_"Ugh," Harry groaned and got up. "Wait here, I'll get rid of them."_

_Before he opened the door, he adjusted his erection._

_Charlie stood in the hallway. _

_Harry stared, in silence, at the man who he'd not seen for months now. Months. Seconds ticked by while Harry studied the image that still sometimes danced behind his eyelids as he drifted off to sleep: broad chest, scruffy beard, piercing blue/grey eyes, firey hair._

_"What do you want?" Harry rasped. _

_"I'm sorry," Charlie said. "Is this a bad time?"_

_Harry heard the soft footsteps behind him, then the solid weight of Will's hand on his lower back. Harry leaned back into it, just slightly. _

_"I'm going to shoot off," Will said._

_"You don't have to do that," Harry responded. "It's fine."_

_"I'll call you tomorrow," Will said gently, and pressed a kiss to Harry's cheek. He nodded at Charlie as he passed him in the hallway. _

_"I suppose you should come in, then," Harry said tiredly, pulling the door open wider and sneaking a look around Charlie's back to watch Will disappear down the staircase. He hadn't looked back._


	55. fifty five

_A/N: Right. I'm going to actually try and get on some sort of schedule with this story now. If you're still reading, you have the patience of a saint and should be rewarded with ice cream. All saints like ice cream. To all the saints out there - I hope you enjoy, and I hope you know what a rare, special, beautiful breed of reader you are._

* * *

><p>There was something about being summoned to the head teacher's office that could still strike fear into the gut of the strongest man. Even when that man - or men - were adults with lives and careers and strange little families of their own.<p>

When the Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was still one Professor Minerva McGonagall, one simply did not argue. The same woman who had taught them both and continued to teach unruly, sullen and uncooperative teenagers – so those two fearful men obeyed orders and were prompt in their arrival at her office.

"Would you care for tea?" she offered.

They accepted.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I asked you here," Professor McGonagall - even after all these years, Harry had trouble thinking of her as _Minerva_ - asked. She sipped her tea and surveyed them over the top of her spectacles.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Kind of."

"It's Order business, if I'm honest, not school business," she admitted. "Unfortunately it's harder and harder for me to escape the school and come down to London. Thank you for making the journey here."

Charlie frowned, perplexed. Professor McGonagall continued.

"One of the duties of the Order is to seek out magical children who may be in danger all around the world, and either work with authorities in that area to bring the child to their attention, or to send one of our own in, if the situation warrants it."

"Okay," Harry said slowly.

McGonagall folded her hands on top of her desk.

"There is a very young child in Romania who we are concerned for. She was abandoned at birth by her Muggle mother, but it seems that her father was a wizard. She is currently being held in an orphanage but the nurses there are wary of her."

"You want us to go back," Charlie said softly.

"Yes," Professor McGonagall said, tilting her head to one side. "I would like very much for you to assess the situation for us."

"Why can't a member of the Order do it?" Harry asked.

"You're both members of the Order of the Phoenix," McGonagall said and raised her eyebrow. "On top of that, Mr Weasley has been living in Romania for the better part of a decade and is familiar with the language and customs of the country."

"We can do it," Charlie said. "Of course we can."

"What about my lessons?" Harry asked.

"I was hoping that you might be agreeable to doing this over a weekend. The lady in charge of the orphanage has agreed to see you on a Saturday."

Harry nodded, wondering if he could think of any other excuses not to do it. None sprang to mind.

"Excellent. I'll owl you the details as soon as I have them. Mr Potter, it might be best if you use Muggle walking aids for now, or a wheelchair."

"I'm not using a wheelchair," he said immediately. "I'll use the splints. And the crutches. What do we need to do, when we get there?"

"The ideal would be for you to take temporary custody and bring the child back to London. My sources suggest that her mother was British, Scottish, actually, and since the Romanian Wizarding Government seems reluctant to act in this instance, they have permitted my representatives to take action."

"Do we use magic?" Harry asked bluntly. "Force? Coercion?"

"You still think like an Auror, Mr Potter," Professor McGonagall said with a small smile. "These are Muggles you will be dealing with, remember. Although a small Confundus charm may not go amiss if you run into any trouble, I doubt very much that will happen. Mr Weasley is ideally placed to be able to take charge of the situation."

Charlie set his teacup down on the edge of the desk. "I'm a dragon keeper, Professor."

"Do not underestimate yourself, Mr Weasley," Professor McGonagall said in a firm tone. "I would not be asking for you to do this if I did not trust you implicitly. There can be no doubt that this child is in danger. The Muggles have already noticed that the child is not like others. It is of upmost importance that she is relocated to a magical family as soon as possible."

It was a warning that hung over their careful preparations to return to Romania. If all went well they were only intending to be there for two days; the first to travel there and make contact with the orphanage, they'd stay at Charlie's house overnight, then on the second day they'd collect the child and return to London.

Even though the request still sounded strange to his ears, Harry accustomed himself to the idea of a long journey. In all his years of being a member of the Order, he'd never been asked to take on a job like this. Still, it seemed like the sort of thing he'd be good at, what with his Auror training and everything.

And Charlie would be with him. Harry forced himself to think of it as a holiday.


	56. fifty six

_A/N: Hello loyal readers! I hope you are all exceptionally well. You may be pleased to know that the next chapter is WRITTEN, yes, you read that correctly. It's done and dusted. I will make sure it gets to you in a much more reasonable time frame.  
>Thank you for staying with me and staying with 'Unbroken'; writing this feels like coming home. <em>

* * *

><p><em><span>October 2002<span>_

_"What are you doing here?" Harry demanded as he watched Will finally disappear around the corner. Silently, he spelled the wall in front of him transparent so he could watch Will walk down to his car, get in it, and drive away. With a sigh, he cast the spell to turn it solid again. _

_"I… I…" Charlie took a deep breath. "I'm here to see you," he said. "I thought we were friends?"_

_Harry arched an eyebrow sharply. They hadn't seen each other in ages._

_"We're friends," he said cautiously. "And ex- lovers. There are boundaries."_

_Charlie nodded. "Of course. Is that – is that your boyfriend?" _

_"Yeah. His name is Will. He's a Muggle."_

_"That must be interesting."_

_"Not really. I grew up as a Muggle, we have plenty in common."_

_"I didn't mean it like that," Charlie said with a sigh. "Can I come in?" He hadn't really wanted to hold this conversation on the doorstep._

_Harry hesitated long enough for Charlie to notice, then held the door open. They went through to the kitchen where he set the kettle on to boil, then sat down at the table, kicking one ankle over his knee so their feet wouldn't accidentally touch under the table._

_"Patrick and I broke up," Charlie blurted, all on a rush._

_"Oh."_

_Harry stood, and made the tea._

_He set two mugs on the table, sat down, stood again, went to the cupboard and found the biscuit tin, and returned to his seat with it._

_"I can't do this, Charlie," he said. "I can't. I'm sorry. I'm sorry you and Patrick didn't work out, but you wouldn't break up with him for me, so I can't break up with Will for you."_

_"I didn't want that." It was a lie. Charlie wanted that more than anything else he could think of._

_"Okay," Harry said. "I really am sorry."_

_Charlie nodded and rose, his tea left untouched on the table. He headed for the door rather than the Floo, making Harry wonder how he'd travelled to the flat. _

_"I have to ask," Charlie said, hesitating with his hand on the door frame. "It'll probably haunt me, but… if things were different?"_

_It took nearly all of Harry's self control to not fling himself forward into Charlie's arms. "If things were different," he repeated. "Yeah. But they're not."_

_With a sad smile Charlie turned, and left._

_xXx_

_Several hours later there was another knock at the door and Harry studiously ignored it. A few moments later the knocking turned into flat out thumping, then two people started arguing in the hallway. Harry had a pretty good idea of who those two people might be._

_So he was unsurprised when Hermione let herself in._

_"Crossing a bloody line," Ron snapped as she stormed through the flat and found him lying flat out on his back on his bed, surrounded by possessions he'd mindlessly, wandlessly summoned and banished, and a bottle of whiskey that was two-thirds empty._

_"Really, Harry? Jack Daniels?"_

_"All the rockstars drink it," Harry slurred, not looking at it._

_"You're not a rock star," she said drily._

_"But he is a hero."_

_"Shut up, Ron."_

_There was a few moments of silence, when Harry imaged the two of them glaring at each other. Then the unexpected._

_The bed shifted and his two best friends enclosed him, one from either side. Hermione tucked her head under his chin and wrapped her arm around his waist; Ron put the bottle of whiskey on the bedside table and laid down on his side, propping his head up on his hand. _

_Harry tried very hard not to cry. _

_"You still love him, don't you?" Hermione asked. _

_It took a while for Harry to feel strong enough to answer. _

_"Yeah," he croaked. "Yeah. More than the whole world."_

_"He loves you too," Ron said. "That sounds weird because, you know, he's my brother and all that. But fuck, Harry. I've never seen him like that before."_

_"Like what?"_

_"Like he did when he came over a few hours ago."_

_Silently, Harry became aware of the hot tears sliding down his cheeks. "I don't know what to do."_

_"Then wait until you do," Hermione said sensibly, squeezing him tighter. _

_"Okay."_

_"Okay."_

_That night, for the first time in a long time, the three of them slept in the same bed. Harry had once thought there was nothing that would ever make him feel like he needed that again. He had thought that he would never hurt like this again. Being wrong sucked. _


	57. fifty seven

The orphanage welcomed their request to meet and discuss the British authorities interest in a child with dual nationality. They arrived at a red brick building and met a severe looking woman who tied her hair back in a manner strikingly similar to Professor McGonagall's.

"You are here about ze baby?" Mrs Leonte asked in a lilting accent.

Charlie nodded and answered her in Romanian. She looked surprised, for a moment, then held the door open to usher them inside.

For all the stories Harry had heard about the conditions in Eastern European countries, this one wasn't as bad as he'd feared. It wasn't homey, not by any stretch of the imagination, but the children looked well nourished and happy. That was all he could ask for, really. He'd long since learned that he couldn't save them all.

Mrs Leonte led them through to a small nursery where several babies were held in white wooden cots. A few were sleeping, one was whimpering softly, several others peered out through the bars with big, inquisitive eyes.

He could feel the magic in the air.

Auror training had taught him how to sense magical signatures but Harry had never felt this from an infant before, and he'd had plenty of contact with his friends' babies over the years. Whatever powers this little thing had, they were there, simmering away under the surface.

_And Voldemort wanted to rid the world of half-bloods,_ Harry thought to himself derisively.

Charlie reached into the crib and lifted the baby up, holding her against his chest. Harry assumed it was a girl; she was dressed in a pink all-in-one outfit. McGonagall had said she was less than a month old but this child seemed so alert, so aware of what was happening around her. He didn't blame the nurses in the orphanage for being wary – she was an unnerving character.

Harry leaned his weight onto one of his crutches and reached out to run his fingertip over the little girl's cheek. She blinked at him and he smiled, unable to stop himself. His whole hand flattened over her rusty coloured hair and gently stroked it back. She was so soft.

Charlie had always had a way with children. Harry thought it might be because of all his younger siblings, then all the nieces and nephews that turned up not so long after the last of his siblings grew out of their childhood. Or maybe it was because he was that sort of man. Tough enough to keep dragons, calm enough to soothe an orphaned, abandoned baby.

"Does she have a name?" Charlie asked, in English, this time.

Mrs Leonte gave a little shrug, as if it didn't matter. "You can give her whatever name you like," she said.

"But does she have one already?"

"The nurses," Mrs Leonte said, clearly bored with the conversation, "Zey call her Lily."

* * *

><p><em>AN: This is probably going to be longer than the chapter. Apologies in advance.  
><em>_A reader emailed me this past weekend and asked if Unbroken would ever be updated again. I almost cried. I never, ever intended to get to a point where I let this story go, it means so much to me. My hesitance in posting this chapter might be clear - it's a point of no return, and I wanted to be sure that I was taking the story in the right direction. (I am. I think.)  
><em>_As of today, Unbroken is my number one writing priority. I am insanely lucky to now have a career as a writer, which admittedly sucks a lot of my time. But I wouldn't have any career at all if it weren't for the support and encouragement of various FanFiction communities. I owe you guys everything - and that's not an overstatement. I don't even know if people will be following any more, and that's kinda okay, to the few that are, I really am sorry. If you stick with me I promise I'll take the story I love and give it (and its readers) the conclusion it deserves._


	58. fifty eight

_December 2002_

_The biggest shock wasn't that Harry broke up with Will after that weekend… it was that he didn't. They stayed together and Harry had a proper, grown up conversation with him about his previous relationship with Charlie and how things had been left between them. _

_It had been painfully awkward, but he felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders for sharing. And, for his part, Will seemed to appreciate the honesty. Their relationship wasn't perfect. But it was good. _

_Will spent Christmas with his family in Oxford, then returned to London in time for what promised to be an epic New Years' celebration. _

_"Thank you for my present," Will said, winding the red and gold striped scarf tightly around his neck. _

_"You're welcome," Harry said with a smirk. "It suits you."_

_"Don't you have one like this?"_

_"Hmm. Something similar, yeah."_

_Will chuckled. "Don't say we're going to match."_

_"Don't worry, I wouldn't do that to you."_

_Harry was laughing too as Will pulled them closer together and peppered light kisses over Harry's lips. They were planning to go down to the Thames to watch the fireworks, just the two of them, since Ron and Hermione had accepted an invitation to a Ministry event. Harry had been invited too, and they'd even offered to make an exception for his Muggle 'plus one'. _

_That was the last line to cross – telling Will that he was a wizard. Harry had looked into it, too; there was plenty of literature in the Ministry library on how to go about inducting a Muggle into the Statute of Secrecy, the steps that needed to be taken and the forms that needed to be filled in. Paperwork. Reams and reams of paperwork. _

_After careful consideration, Harry had decided not to go through that. There was something liberating about having a partner separate to the wizarding world, who didn't care about Hogwarts or Quidditch or whether or not hats were back in fashion. Will wanted to know whether Chelsea had a shot at the title next season and who was going to die on Eastenders. _

_The point that had decided it for Harry, though, was the fact that once he knew, Will would always be there on Ministry files. He could be followed or tracked for the rest of his life. And, if anyone wanted to ever go looking, his name would be there, attached to Harry's. _

_William Gary Chivers, Muggle. Harry James Potter, wizard. _

_If anything ever happened to Will because of that connection, Harry knew he'd never be able to forgive himself. Even if it was fifty years down the line. Will was innocent and Harry intended to keep him that way. _

_"Come on," Will said, sliding his hand into Harry's. "Or we'll never get there in time to see the fireworks."_

_"Okay," Harry agreed. _

_Then he stole another kiss. _


	59. fifty nine

The orphanage and Mrs Leonte let Lily be taken away by the two English men with no argument at all. They signed the paperwork, left forwarding details, then walked away with the few things Lily had been given by the nurses. The whole process only took a few hours.

Harry had a feeling that they were breaching serious protocol somewhere along the line and forced those thoughts from his mind. Charlie was the one carrying Lily since he couldn't walk and hold her at the same time. They only got far enough away that they were out of sight, then Apparated back to Charlie's house.

Lily didn't like that.

"I've got her," Harry said, immediately going to the sofa and settling the baby in his arms.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I dunno… is there a bottle or something in there for her?"

"Shit, Harry, I haven't got a clue. We should take her back to my mum."

Harry hummed noncommittally and gave the little girl his pinkie finger to suck on. She settled after a few minutes, looking up at him with those big, expressive eyes.

"Harry?"

"Sorry. What did you say?"

"Nothing. I'm going to fire-call mum, okay?"

"Mhmm."

xXx

Molly didn't arrive. Hermione did.

"Oh, poor little dot," she cooed, lifting the baby from Harry's arms with the experience of a seasoned mother. Experience Harry didn't have. "How old is she?"

"About three or four weeks," Charlie said, noticing only the death-glares Harry was giving one of his oldest friends.

Her face broke into genuine distress. "God. Okay. Well, I have to go down to Molly anyway so I can save you a trip-"

"What?" Harry interrupted. "No you won't. She's staying here. With me. Us."

Hermione silently lifted an eyebrow. "And you've cleared that? With McGonagall, the Ministry, Molly...?"

Harry frowned. "No, but-"

"Then I have to take her," Hermione said. "I understand if you've become attached, Harry, but we really don't have a choice."

From his place on the sofa Harry stretched out his hands for the baby. Hermione gently placed her in his arms, then sat down on the coffee table.

"What's going on," she demanded.

Harry ignored her and gently bounced Lily, who was starting to fuss.

Charlie sighed heavily and shifted Harry's legs so he could sit down too. "The little girl's name is Lily."

"You named her?"

"No." Charlie shook his head. "That was her name that the nurses at the orphanage gave her."

"Oh."

"She's staying with us," Harry said softly, but with a tone of voice that reminded the others, if they needed reminding, that this man had spent many years leading teams of the ministry's best Aurors.

"If," Hermione started, then stood, shrugged out of her peppermint green robes and sat back down again with them folded across her lap, over her now sizable bump. "If you're serious about this then you have to follow procedure, Harry. You _have_ to. If you don't take her to a Ministry approved temporary foster parent then you could be charged with kidnapping."

Harry scoffed.

"This is serious! The Protection of Vulnerable Magical Children Act is one of the best things to come out of this Ministry and I'm fucked if I'm going to let you ruin that." She took a deep breath. "If you want to come with me then I'm sure Molly would be delighted for you to stay with her for a few days until we can figure something out."

Charlie groaned something that sounded like 'oh lord'.

"I want to keep her," Harry said defiantly.

"Have you thought about this?" Hermione asked, her voice now soft, begging. "Really thought about it, Harry? She's _beautiful_. But you've got a new job that you're amazing at, and we're still looking for that counter-curse, and McGonagall is going to work with you on the Animagus thing…"

"Let me ask you one thing, Hermione," Harry said. "On the day you gave birth to Hugo, and the nurse put him in your arms, if someone asked you if he was worth it – if you were sure, did you really want to give up your career and take care of a baby – would you have said no?"

She didn't answer.

"Exactly."

"Let's get her home," Charlie said softly. "If we take her back to mum's now, then we can do all the jumping through hoops that they're going to make us do and figure things out from there."

"Okay."

"You sure?"

"I'll do whatever it takes," Harry said, his attention already turned back to the baby.


	60. sixty

_February 2003_

_"Potter! Weasley!"_

_They stopped in their tracks, already heading for their office to collect bags and coats and get the hell out of the Ministry for the weekend._

_"Yes?" Harry said, turning with his best professional smile on his face._

_"Good job today," Rosewarne said. His face was a mask of seriousness. It had been a serious job. _

_"Thank you, sir," Ron said from next to him. "It was an exciting assignment to be a part of."_

_Rosewarne nodded and headed off to his own office. With more staff shortages, the man had come out of his almost retirement in the training department and was now overseeing a big project on Muggle drugs that were creeping into Wizarding circles. When the project was launched he'd immediately requested both Harry and Ron on his team, which to Harry was a big deal. He was still settling back into the department after his previous blip._

_"You're such a kiss ass," Harry murmured as they ducked into the office they shared with a few others. "Thank you, sir," he mimicked. Ron hit him on the arm._

_"Fuck off."_

_"Cheers, mate."_

_"You coming for a drink?"_

_"Nah," Harry said. "I'm meeting Will later. He's taking me out somewhere."_

_Ron shrugged out of his Auror's robe and hung it on one of the hooks next to the door, then stripped off his shirt to replace it with a clean one. Harry chucked his own robes over the back of his chair and just finger-combed his hair back – it was the best he was going to get before jumping in the shower. _

_"You're pretty serious about him, aren't you?"_

_"Who, Will? Yeah. I guess so."_

_"Mum likes him."_

_Harry smiled. "I got that impression, yeah."_

_"She said he's good for you."_

_Harry was bemused to think that Molly had spoken about Will with Ron. She had come over to his flat for tea one Saturday afternoon, bringing with her a huge cake and a tin of biscuits for later. She'd even arranged to Apparate into the car park behind his building, then walk up the stairs so Will wouldn't be suspicious. _

_They'd spent a rainy afternoon eating cake and drinking tea, chatting about Arthur who sent his apologies, but was tinkering with the car in the garage (which was probably true). Molly didn't shy away from questions about Harry's childhood, instead explaining how she'd come to unofficially adopt him when he was a teenager. _

_"Molly and Arthur are far more like my parents than my aunt and uncle would ever be," Harry had said, making her beam._

_All his worrying about introducing Molly to Will was for nothing. Well, not for nothing… the connection to his family was something that Will seemed to cherish, like Harry had given him something a lot bigger than just tea and cake. _

_The sex was good, their friendship was solid, they had a good time together going around Muggle London where Harry was never stopped or recognised. They had a long standing tradition that on payday they went down to Camden Market and ordered something from a food stall they hadn't visited before. Their friends had started to mix. _

_When Will kissed Harry it felt warm and safe and real. It felt like staying in bed for an extra half hour on Sunday morning because there's nowhere else to go. It felt like a Molly Weasley Christmas jumper. It felt good. _

_So what was missing?_

* * *

><p><em>AN: Hey guys, I'm going to be on holiday for the next couple of weeks so there likely won't be an update now until I'm back. _I'll be writing while I travel, so I'll hopefully come home with some more of the story ready to tell. _  
>Hope life is treating you all well!<br>- HFS xx_


	61. sixty one

To say the Ministry tripped over themselves to clear the way for Harry Potter to become a legal foster parent, was an understatement. Hermione made an enquiry – just an enquiry, nothing more – and the next day the completed forms were sent by owl. It required a signature and the job was done.

Hermione was unimpressed.

Molly was beside herself.

Harry was in love.

Charlie… wasn't sure. They had temporarily moved in with his mother and he had spent the weekend running between the flat in London and the cottage in Devon, trying to make sure the cat and the baby his husband were happy.

By Sunday night, chaos reigned.

"Alright!" Charlie yelled over the top of all the people who were talking very loudly in his mother's kitchen. "Alright. Shut up, all of you, just for a minute."

Lily was asleep upstairs in his old bedroom.

The room fell silent.

"I just need to think a minute," he muttered, feeling his face heat from the twelve pairs of eyes that had turned on him. "We have to work out how this is going to work. _If _this is going to work."

They were closing in on forty-eight hours with Lily and some of Harry's romantic notions about becoming a parent were wearing off. He looked tired, Charlie decided. Older, tired, stressed. On instinct he stood and walked around the table to where Harry was sat, put his hands on Harry's shoulders and gently rubbed.

"You can't leave your job," Charlie said when Harry twisted round in his seat. "I know what you're thinking, but you really can't."

A million years ago Harry would have clenched his jaw and defiantly done whatever it was someone had told him he couldn't do. Not any more, though.

"You made a promise," Charlie added.

"We'll take her."

Both Harry and Charlie looked over at Ron in shock. He had remained the least vocal of the assembled Weasleys, watching on in what Harry had interpreted as apathy.

"Lily can come home with us. We'll raise her with our baby."

Hermione took his hand and squeezed. "Ron," she started, but he shook his head, cutting her off.

"If you want to know she'll get a family who love her, then we can give her that."

"I know," Harry said. "You're the best parents I know. She's not my niece, though. She's my daughter."

"Harry," Molly said, her voice pleading. Begging.

"Harry," Charlie echoed. "Let's go outside."

It was a struggle, getting Harry through the narrow kitchen with the whole family watching. He made it, though, and sat on the kitchen step with a _Muffliato _cast against any potential eavesdroppers.

"This situation seriously sucks ass."

"And not in a good way," Charlie said with a sharp grin.

Harry laughed, then dropped his head to his drawn-up knees. "What are we supposed to do?" He looked up, over at Charlie. "What am I supposed to do?"

"The right thing," Charlie said sombrely. Harry laughed again – this time it sounded slightly desperate. "Ron was serious, you know. He wouldn't say something like that unless he meant it."

"Yeah. Yeah. That's probably the right thing. The sensible thing. But…"

"Lily."

"Yeah," Harry said helplessly. "Lily."

"How about," Charlie said, the words coming to him in the moment, painting the idea in the air as he spoke. It was only with more words that the idea took shape. "How about if we… got a nanny. Not like a full time thing… someone who would take care of her during the day. Then… then when Hermione has her baby they can both be looked after by the same person. Hermione could go back to work… You know she's been worrying about that. And it would mean that Mum doesn't have to take care of another kid during the day."

"I don't want to be a part-time parent."

"Neither do I, Harry. But… just think about it. You still have so much work to do, with the Animagus stuff with McGonagall and your lessons. It took so long to get us here we can't just throw it all away now."

Those were the wrong words: Harry bristled, the image cracked.

"She's worth it, I'm not giving something up, I'm gaining something new and amazing."

"Don't lose yourself in the process, though. Don't lose what we have."

"What do we have?"

This, Charlie was good at. "An amazing marriage," he said. "For a start. A family that loves us and puts up with crap like bringing an orphan baby back from Romania that no one knows what to do with. Friends. A home. A cat," he added with a smile.

"Kneazle?"

"Not sure," Charlie admitted. "Maybe. Never bothered to find out."

"Hmm."

"Think about it. We get to keep Lily, and we get to keep this world that we've made together. Everything changes and nothing does, all at the same time."

"A nanny."

"Yes."

"A very, very good one."

"Yes," Charlie said with a laugh. "The best. We can go and poach the Royal nanny if you want."

"Our daughter," Harry said.

"Yes."

"Okay."

"Okay."


	62. sixty two

_February 2004_

_Harry was breathing hard, each breath rattling in his chest. He clung hard to Will's strong back, adoring each measured, intimate thrust of the other man's cock inside him. _

_Harry had climaxed a few minutes ago but had urged Will to keep going, to finish inside him. In those moments he felt almost hyperaware of his body; each bead of sweat, each muscle contracting and releasing, all the little hairs standing up on his arms._

_"Harry," Will groaned and shuddered . He kissed over Harry's shoulder, up to meet lips that met his hungrily. "Harry."_

_They were in no rush to move. These lazy, middle of the night fucks were a frequent occurrence. Harry had learned to suppress the instinct to cast cleaning up spells and was content to let Will wipe them down with a damp flannel, then change the sheets in the morning._

_Will slumped onto Harry's chest with a grunt, making Harry laugh as he carefully smoothed the hair back from his lover's face. _

_"You okay?" Will asked._

_"Mhmm."_

_"Okay, good."_

_They were closing in on almost two years together, and Harry was no closer to telling Will about his magic than he was at the start. As time had gone on it got harder and harder – how was he supposed to tell his partner he'd been hiding such a fundamental part of himself all this time?_

_Their relationship wasn't difficult. Things seemed to go smooth and easy for them, even through the hard stuff like working overtime and not having enough time for each other. _

_Will trailed his finger's up and down Harry's side, making him shiver. _

_"Harry."_

_"Mm?"_

_"Move in with me."_

_Harry sighed. They lived on opposite sides of the city to each other and even though he could get from his flat to Will's in a few seconds, it took Will almost an hour on the underground. And because Will was such a nice guy, he insisted on them spending an equal amount of time in each other's homes. _

_"I don't know."_

_It was a conversation they'd had more than once. "It just makes sense."_

_"I'll think about it," Harry promised. He kissed Will on the head and shifted on the bed so they could fall asleep back-to-back, like they always did. _

_xXx_

_"Oh, Harry," Hermione said with a sigh, pulling him into her arms. "What happened?"_

_"Nothing, yet," he said, giving her a quick squeeze before letting go. _

_She sat back in her corner of the sofa and tucked her feet under her legs. It was still cold out, even if the snow had melted already. Harry sat down in the opposite corner and, with a wave of his hand, stoked the fire that he'd just come in through._

_"I think Will and I are going to break up," he said with a rush._

_Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You haven't already?"_

_"No."_

_"Oh."_

_"I've just come from his place and… I don't know. I was thinking that even after all this time together I'm no closer now to telling him about everything than I was when we met."_

_"Have you got any intention of telling him?" Hermione asked. _

_"No. I… no. It wouldn't be the right thing for any of us."_

_"So where is this going for you then, long term, I mean." She tucked a loose curl behind her ear and gave him an intense sort of look._

_"Nowhere," Harry said with a sigh._

_"Be kind to him," Hermione offered. "He's a lovely person."_

_"I know. I wish-"_

_"What?"_

_"I wish I loved him enough to bring him in."_

_"I think you love him too much to bring him in," Hermione said. _

_"Yeah," Harry said softly. "Maybe I do."_


	63. sixty three

Their daughter, as it turned out, was both a menace and a miracle.

Harry and Charlie found a routine that spanned three countries as they moved between England, Scotland and Wales on a day to day basis. Harry shifted his classes around so he left for work early and was home by mid-afternoon most days. McGonagall made sure it all happened smoothly, with only minimal disruption to his students.

Charlie got up even earlier and was usually flying over the Brecons by about four in the morning. He too worked through until lunchtime, then came home, meaning both parents took over Lily-duties through the afternoon and evening.

Somehow, it worked.

Their nanny was called Zoe and even though she was young, Harry liked her. Zoe had done all of her training at Muggle university and had spent an equal amount of time in Muggle and magical households since she qualified.

Her dark eyes were usually smiling and she was a calming influence on a fairly highly-strung household. Molly liked her too, which helped, and as Hermione edged ever-closer to her due date, they started planning how the next Weasley baby would be enveloped into the routine.

"I'm home," Harry called as he came through the Floo and fell, as always, onto the rug in front of the hearth.

He coughed once, then looked up to find Zoe on the sofa with Lily having a bottle from the crook of her arm.

"Sorry," Zoe said, bouncing the baby a couple of times. "I know you like to feed her but she was crying for her lunch."

"No, no, it's fine," Harry said, struggling to his feet and pulling his cloak from his shoulders. "How has she been?"

"Fine," Zoe said serenely. "Ron sent an owl this morning to say they thought Hermione was having the baby, but it was a false alarm."

"I got that one too," Harry said. He sat down on the sofa and Zoe dutifully passed the baby over. "I can't believe how quickly she's growing."

It had only been a month, just a month! And they were already seeing such huge changes in the little girl. Her hair was growing and now curled just below her delicate ears; the same strange, fiery red colour as her father and grandmother. She had settled into her new home with grace, and slept almost through the night.

Lily ate well, slept well, and Harry liked to think she loved them. It was all he could ask for.

Harry sent Zoe on her way and hoisted Lily up on to his shoulder to rub her back and hopefully send her off for a nap.

"Had the Slytherins this morning," he said, telling her about his day like he always did. "Bunch of little shits, they are. Don't worry, though, Daddy doesn't put up with any of their nonsense. Tried to pull a Skiving Snackbox on me. On me! I know. I told them I was around when your uncles were first inventing those and they could puke in a bucket for the rest of the class.

"It was good, though, I got chance to do a bit of teaching about concealed curses and how you can look for them. I'm never quite sure how much they take in, you know, but it's worth a try."

Lily burped. Harry patted her back. "Good girl. Went to see Minerva after lunch – that's Professor McGonagall to you, don't forget. Won't be long until you're off to Hogwarts, I'm sure. Anyway, we talked some more about me learning how to be an Animagus, and it's still on the cards, you know. She talked me through a couple of chapters of the book I was reading that I didn't quite get. Transfiguration hasn't ever really been my best subject. We said we'd start trying to do it in the Easter holidays – there won't be any kids about and hopefully Zoe will be able to take care of you for a few extra hours."

Harry was aware that Lily's breathing had evened out and she was sleeping on his shoulder. This was always the hardest part for him – putting her down again. He could talk to her for a little while longer.

"I've been reading Granddad James's diary again, Lily. I know he didn't write it for me, but sometimes it feels that way. It sort of makes me wish I'd written a diary so you could know me as a teenager when you're older. Actually... that's probably not such a good idea.

"There's so much waiting for you in this world, little girl. You're never going to stop being amazed by it." He kissed her softly on the head. "It's been years, and I haven't stopped. Not at all."


	64. sixty four

_A/N: A quick note on me...  
>My publishing career has just gone a little bit crazy in the past year, which is why my fervent dedication to this story has been metaphorically rained on by deadlines and contracts and promotions. This past weekend I sat down and for some reason was able to almost finish the story. I think, from here, there's about 10-20 more chapters left. I will do my absolute best to complete 'Unbroken' with the same passion and adoration for the characters that I started it with.<br>I know I've said it many times before, but my readers are truly priceless and to those who are still with me after five years, please know how incredibly special you are._

* * *

><p><em><span>July 2004<span>_

_At Molly's insistence, Harry's birthday party was being thrown at the Burrow. His bitching and moaning that he was twenty four now and didn't need a birthday party fell on deaf ears. Molly wanted to have a party, so they were having a party._

_The years seemed to be punctuated with birthdays, the changes from one year to the next marking the passage of time. Last year he was with Will. This year he was not. _

_They'd broken up fairly amicably, with tears on both sides not for what they'd lost, but what might have been. There would always be a stain on Harry's heart from the Muggle man – the first one he'd allowed himself to love since… since…_

_Since that man with the broad chest and shaggy hair, dark red dragon skin boots and jeans with tears across the knees, who was walking across the garden with the sort of purpose that made Harry weak at the knees. _

_His eyes were still the same piercing blue, and Harry knew exactly how that sharp jaw felt under his tongue how the thick, strong biceps curled around him. Harry knew what that bulge in his jeans meant, and it was all still there. _

_Time – fuck time. Time had done nothing for them. It wasn't easier now or lighter, the sky wasn't any bluer and the grass not greener. His heart still hurt when it beat this hard in his chest, and fuck Charlie too because Harry was still grieving for his last relationship – it wasn't fair for Charlie to just walk back into his life and be this…_

_Be this.._

_Be this._

_"Hi," Charlie said, stopping in front of where Harry was sat on a picnic table, eating an iced bun._

_"Hi," Harry said._


	65. sixty five

Lily screamed with delighted laughter as Charlie threw her up into the air then caught her with strong, sure hands. She clapped – a new trick – and Charlie did it again.

It wasn't that Harry was worried when Charlie did things like this. He was more than aware that every time he picked Lily up he put her in more danger than Charlie was by throwing her around. He knew, because people told him all the fucking time.

He'd never once dropped her, though. Not even come close. It was strange to think that he was the safe parent and Charlie was the risky one. It had to be that way. He didn't have a choice.

"She'll be sick on you in a minute," Harry said affectionately, and Charlie bumped their daughter onto his hip to carry her over to where Harry was sitting. It had been three months since she came into their lives and she'd duly turned it upside down.

It was spring now, and Hermione's baby was sleeping in her Uncle Harry's arms. Harry wasn't quite sure who had deposited Rose there or when, but he didn't mind. He wasn't going anywhere.

On the weekends he mostly avoided using the splints to try and give his legs a rest. Being able to move around on his own was a miracle, and he still wasn't sure how he would ever repay Fred and George for that little bit of freedom they'd given him back. The unavoidable truth, though, was that miracle was exhausting him. Standing or walking for more than fifteen minutes at a time left him in agony. The muscles and bones that wouldn't support him were being forced into what they considered unnatural positions, and even though the outside world didn't see it, things weren't perfect. Not yet.

For two days a week, people didn't care that he used a broomstick to get around rather than slowly shuffling down echoing halls with crutches. When he was with family, there was no pretenses, no illusions. They didn't care. Lily certainly didn't.

Molly called the cousins her flower girls, the third in the trio rounded off by the baby girl Percy's wife was carrying, who would be called Poppy when she was born. It was reassuring in a way, that Lily would grow up with two cousins close in age to her, to have that female support that would be missing in her two-dad household.

"Do you want a drink or anything?" Charlie asked. "Sun cream?"

"No, I'm tanning," he said with a wink.

"Okay."

Even though the rest of his family were around, Charlie leaned in and kissed his husband. Then he did it again. It wasn't like anyone was surprised any more, but it still felt a bit awkward to be snogging in front of Charlie's mum.

"Love you," Harry said, to make up for his lack of enthusiasm.

"Love you too."

xXx

As promised, McGonagall made time for Harry during the Easter holidays to help him progress further in his quest for Animagus abilities. Things were progressing – he'd got the charm part down, but the Transfiguration was proving tricky.

"We should stop for a while, Harry," Minerva said. They were practicing on the Quidditch pitch – there was less chance of damaging anything out here.

Harry wanted to protest, to keep going, but hoisted himself back up onto his Firebolt and flew over to sit next to where McGonagall had Transfigured a pile of sticks into a squashy sofa.

"You're doing awfully well," she said, handing him a flask of pumpkin juice.

"Really? It feels like it's taking ages."

"Not at all. We've only been at this for a few months. It took me almost a year to learn."

"Dumbledore taught you, right?" Harry said. He remembered her mentioning it in passing some time ago.

"Oh, yes. It was when I was training to be a teacher, and I wanted to grasp this peculiar branch of magic."

"I still can't believe my dad figured it out on his own," Harry grumbled. Minerva laughed.

"Even your father had help, Harry," she said gently. "It took him well over a year with the help of two extraordinarily bright friends in order to achieve it."

"I know." And he did. He'd read all about it. "They had a lot of problems along the way, too. I think at one point Remus thought Sirius had killed himself."

"It's not impossible. I still can't quite believe that they achieved it right under my nose. I knew they were competent students… I almost feel like I failed them."

"Really?"

"I could have… Oh, I don't know," Minerva said, sighing and brushing her cloak over her knees. "If I'd know what skills they had I would have tried to nurture them more, I suppose. It was very easy to dismiss James and his gang as popular troublemakers. They were bright and intelligent, and well liked by the staff. I never realised they were actually applying the skills we were teaching them."

Harry smiled. Hearing stories about his parents like this was one of his favourite things.

"What about my mum?"

"Now, if you'd told me Lily had learned to become an Animagus I'd be shocked too, although in a different way. She was incredibly intelligent, you know. But it was her heart that we all liked her for. She was a very loving young woman."

"Yeah."

"Obviously you know that," Minerva said with a little laugh. Harry just nodded. "Let's give this one last try, shall we?"

Harry stood and used the crutches this time, walked a few paces away, then turned back.

"I think it's a bird," he said, feeling very unsure of himself.

"Oh? I'd thought you'd be feeling more…"

"Stag-like?" Harry finished for her.

"Yes." Minerva smiled.

"I know. I've been trying to push away from that though. We can't know if my legs will work, and… I want to fly."

"Some of the first known Animagi were birds," Minerva said. "It's not unheard of."

"I want to fly," Harry murmured again.

"So fly, Harry."

* * *

><p><em>AN: Happy Valentine's, dear readers!_


	66. sixty six

_July 2004_

_The club was dark, darker than most clubs, mostly to disguise what was going on in the corners. And in the middle of the dance floor, in some cases. _

_Harry was on his way to being drunk and had already had his dick sucked. It had been a satisfactory orgasm that had taken the edge off his evening. _

_After his afternoon at Molly's, Harry had snuck back to London as soon as he'd been able and fire-called Finnegan. No, Seamus hadn't been the one to suck Harry off, although he'd offered, like any good friend would. Seamus had just got him half-drunk on Irish whiskey then ferried him off to a gay bar to dance his troubles away. _

_Harry had tried to explain, and got as far as "Charlie fucking Weasley" before Seamus told him to say no more, and cracked open the alcohol._

_He stumbled over to the bar where Seamus was being chatted up by a tall guy with long dark hair. _

_"I might go home," Harry said, after giving the chatter-upper an apologetic look. "I've had enough."_

_"Alright, mate," Seamus said. "Look after yourself, okay?"_

_Harry nodded. "I'll call you soon."_

_When he reached the door Harry looked back over his shoulder, and Seamus was already snogging the other bloke. He smiled to himself. At least someone was getting some._

_He couldn't face Apparating home, not with the risk of splinching only getting worse in line with how much alcohol he'd imbibed. So far that was quite a lot. Instead he called a cab and got the man with the broad Cockney accent to drive him across the city back to his home. _

_"Cheers," Harry said, chucking a few notes at the driver and waiting until the man had rounded the corner before walking up to his building._

_When he got to the front door, Charlie was sat on the top step. _

_"What the fuck?" Harry mumbled. "How long have you been there for?"_

_"Not long," Charlie said. _

_Harry unlocked the door and stepped around Charlie. "Are you coming in?"_

_xXx_

_They fucked like rabbits. _

_Harry was sore and out of breath, and sweat was running down his back as he pounded into Charlie's body. Charlie didn't seem to mind. _

_One of Charlie's hands was wrapped around the back of Harry's neck, holding him in place and meaning there was no escaping from Charlie's relentless kissing. The other was kneading Harry's arse-cheek, occasionally slapping it to urge him on._

_"Fuck," Harry groaned, and Charlie bit his bottom lip, tugging it between his teeth then licking at the abused flesh._

_This was not making love. They had done that before. This was now and things were different – this was raw, hard, not particularly nice. This was something they both needed. Niceties had been abandoned, any sense of taking care of a lover completely forgotten. This was primal need. This was fucking._

_"Harry," Charlie moaned, the vowel sounds stretched out as he orgasmed, the come pumping out of his thick, ruddy cock in time with Harry's thrusts inside him. _

_Harry bit down on Charlie's nipple and came too._

_It was the third time tonight – Charlie had sucked him off too, then Harry had returned the favour, then they'd both done a revitalising potion to start again._

_Feeling like his bones were melting, Harry collapsed on his side and took deep, ragged breaths. His heart was pounding in his chest and his dick felt like it needed an ice bath. He shot a vague, half-arsed cooling spell at it and shuddered at the added sensation._

_On impulse, he rolled on to his side and reached down between Charlie's thighs, feeling his own come seeping out of Charlie's body. _

_"Mmm."_

_"You like that?" Harry asked. _

_"Yeah. Feels good."_

_Harry slipped two fingers back into Charlie's arse and moved them gently in and out. _

_"Got any of that potion left?" Charlie asked as his cock started to rise again._

_"Yeah. Some."_

_"Some is enough."_

_Harry reached over to the bedside table and checked the vial of potion. He swallowed half of the remaining contents himself, then poured the rest of the red, fizzy liquid between Charlie's parted lips. _

_It worked almost immediately and Harry felt the heat start to rise inside him again. Time for round three._


	67. sixty seven

"It's an eagle," Harry said. He was dirty, wet, and very tired.

Charlie looked up from his spot on the sofa. He'd clearly been napping with Lily on his chest. "What is?" he asked sleepily.

"My Animagus," Harry said. "I am."

Stretching carefully, Charlie smiled. "Of course you are," he said. Harry crouched awkwardly next to the sofa and attached his lips to his husband's.

"I can fly."

"I know."

Harry chuckled and kissed him again.

xXx

When Charlie took Harry out; him on a broom, Harry in his Animagus form, he said "Well, that's conspicuous."

To be fair, it was. The Animagus was a huge golden eagle, a species of bird not seen in the British Isles. It meant Harry would have to be careful, more careful than his father or Sirius had been when they were in their Animagus forms.

Harry wasn't too worried. He was well versed in concealment charms and could perform these even when his body had changed shape. Minerva had helped him fill out the paperwork to say he intended to study Animagi, then agreed to be his mentor and guide. When he completed the transformation the first time he was required to register, and only once the Ministry approved could he start to change on a regular basis.

According to Charlie, the eagle had a scar on its forehead.

The question about his legs wasn't really answered by the eagle. He could perch and hold himself upright when on a branch or on the ground. But his legs weren't steady, and it was clear the curse lingered in some form. He was stronger like this, though.

The work on breaking the curse continued at a much slower pace than anyone had anticipated and although being able to move around on his own, on crutches or a broom, gave Harry back his freedom, it wasn't quite the same. Once a month he was visited at Hogwarts by a team of Ministry experts – curse breakers, Unspeakables, Healers, politicians. There was never any change.

This new life was different, but Harry was finding his place in it. He had his husband, daughter, career, his escape route when it all got too much. It wasn't the free and easy life he'd lived before…

Every night Harry read Lily a bedtime story. Charlie would give her a bottle, just enough warm milk to send her off to sleep. Then they put her down in her crib, told her that her daddies loved her very much, and set her music mobile on to play softly.

"This is fucking weird," Harry said. He was stretched out on the sofa, his sore, blistered feet in Charlie's lap so his husband could rub them gently.

"What is?"

"My life."

Charlie laughed. "Good weird though, right?"

"Yeah. I think so."

"Good. It's a bit strange for me to see my Dark Lord vanquishing husband getting ticklish over a foot rub too."

"Oh, piss off," Harry said without venom.

"You're moving your toes, Harry," Charlie said softly. Harry had been doing it for a few moments now, wriggling them in reaction to Charlie's careful rubbing.

"I know. Don't scare it off."

Charlie laughed and looked down at Harry's inelegant sprawl. "Are you doing it on purpose?"

"I think so."

"How?"

"I haven't got a clue."

Charlie stroked the top of Harry's foot almost reverently. "Don't stop."


	68. sixty eight

_September 2004_

_No one knew they were fucking. And that was all it was. _

_There was no mushy reunion, no sweet nothings whispered into eager ears, no flowers and chocolate and romance. _

_There was dick in ass and variants thereof._

_After the night of Harry's birthday, Charlie Disapparated before morning and didn't send an owl or leave a note to explain why. Only a few weeks later he turned up at Harry's flat again and the same thing happened. _

_Hard, raw, dirty sex. And a lonely bed by morning. _

_Harry had absolutely no idea what was going on. Someone must have told Charlie that Harry and Will were over, because Harry was pretty sure Charlie wouldn't be fucking him if he thought they were still together. Harry had a feeling Ron was behind it, but he couldn't be sure. Ron had always been a quiet and fervent supporter of the romance between his brother and best friend. It wouldn't be so surprising if he was the one trying to nudge them back together. _

_Harry didn't tell a soul that Charlie Weasley was once again back in his bed. _

_And no one asked._


	69. sixty nine

"Are you in pain?" the Healer asked, and Harry groaned. He'd been through this, over and over again for hours.

"Yes," Harry said, gritting his teeth and trying to be patient.

"Constantly?"

"No. When I'm standing it hurts."

The Healer nodded and made some notes with a long, black quill. The feather tickled his nose and he sneeze, displacing his pince-nez. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Charlie hide his grin in Lily's belly.

They had been through enough tests that Harry felt like a performing monkey. He'd changed into his Animagus form and back again several times, had submitted himself to undignified prodding and poking when in his eagle form. Charlie had been there the whole time, being alternatively supportive and teasing when Harry's mood changed.

He had walked for the Healers with crutches and splints, then with splints alone. He'd done ridiculous tricks on a broom just to show off. He'd sobbed in pain when Charlie helped him out of his boots and his feet swelled and ached.

"Well, Mr Potter," the Healer said, "I'm quite confident that the pain you're experiencing in your feet is in reaction to your defiance to the curse."

"The _curse_ is doing this?" Charlie asked.

"Mr Potter's insistence on partaking in activities that should be impossible for him-"

"Are you trying to say I should just sit around and do nothing? Not walk anywhere? Because with all due respect, Healer, fuck that."

The man recoiled a little, then smirked. "I understand your… enthusiasm, Mr Potter. But the simple fact is, if you persist in attempting to walk, you will continue to suffer this pain."

"Okay, so what about the movement?" Charlie said. "When he first got hurt he couldn't move at all. It was like his legs were a dead weight. Now…"

"We cannot say for sure, Mr Weasley," the Healer said gently. "It does seem that there is now a range of movement – however small – that we were not seeing previously. But I am unable to make any guarantees as to what will happen in the future."

Harry nodded. He'd expected this – had come to terms with the realities of his disability a long time ago.

"I'm not going to stop walking," Harry said.

"Can you give him something that will help with the pain? A potion or something?"

"I don't need a bloody potion," Harry muttered and rolled his eyes. From her place in Charlie's arms, Lily started to fuss.

"I will do some more research and owl you," the Healer said. "Your progress is promising, Mr Potter. But it is in no way conclusive."

That night, with Lily sleeping in the next room, Harry sprawled out on the bed, laying on Charlie's chest. The cat had finished his night-time prowling and was curled up in a patch of moonlight on the windowsill and Charlie's fingers stroked reassuringly over Harry's back.

"I want her to be… smart," Harry said. They'd been playing this game for a while.

"Hermione Granger smart, or James Potter smart?" Charlie asked.

"Um… Lily Potter-Weasley smart," Harry said with a grin. "I want her to go out there and totally defy expectations."

"You know you're going to teach her how to conjure a Patronus and become an Animagus before she even gets to Hogwarts," Charlie said affectionately. "She'll walk in on her first day and know the entire first year syllabus."

"No. Maybe," Harry conceded.

"I want her to be beautiful," Charlie said. "Not like, supermodel beautiful, but you know when someone is confident and loving and secure and happy? They sort of look beautiful to the whole world. I want her to be that."

"Me too."

"I want," Charlie said, "for her to know that her dads love each other. She knows now that we love her, but I want her to see all the time the sort of love I saw between my parents. I think that's important. For her to grow up in a family that's so full of love."

Harry leaned in and kissed him, ever so gently. This was everything.

"We're not going to have any more kids, are we," Charlie asked softly.

"No. I don't think so."

"This one is perfect."

Harry grinned. "Yeah. Plus, just look at how many cousins she has already. I think it's going to be good, the three of us."

Charlie pushed his fingers through Harry's hair and tugged him down into a kiss. This one was slow and sure, tongues and lips and teeth and the stirrings of something else.

"Make love to me," Harry murmured.

"Yeah, okay," Charlie said with a grin. "How do you want it?"

"Um, on my side… like this." He rolled off Charlie's chest and pulled his knees up.

As always, it took a while for Harry to be ready for sex as the passive partner, not that he was ever really passive, even when he bottomed. He often wondered if he would have ever experienced this were it not for Charlie Weasley coming into his life and changing it completely. The act seemed too intimate for him to share with anyone other than this man – the one inside him.

"Oh," Harry said, then moaned as Charlie filled him again.

"Okay?"

"Yeah. Good."

Charlie smiled and kissed his shoulder, retreated, then pushed in again. While making love like this Charlie often propped himself up on one arm, leaving the other to play with Harry's body, with the added advantage of being able to see everything.

"Your mind is so open to me right now," Charlie murmured, brushing Harry's hair back from his face. "Let me in?"

Where Harry had never been able to specifically master the skills of Occlumency and Legilimency, Charlie was good at both. Harry had learned other skills in his years as an Auror to protect his mind… but he let Charlie in from time to time.

"You're so kinky," Harry said with a laugh. He ran the flat palm of his hand over his own chest, tweaked a nipple, then rubbed down to his cock and caught it between his fingers. "Yeah, okay."

"Let me know if you want me to stop."

It was a whole different level of intimacy. Harry was just about used to Charlie invading his body, occasionally his mind, but both at the same time?

He whimpered as images filled his head, pictures that Charlie was painting there as he showed Harry exactly what he was seeing. It was strange in a way, being aroused by his own body, by the way Charlie saw it. When Charlie looked down Harry could see too, the picture of Charlie's cock moving in and out of his own body. He could see it, and feel it, and it was overwhelming but there was no way he could stop.

Charlie took, too, as well as giving him those incredible images – took the love that Harry still had such a hard time expressing, took the feelings of deep desire and intimacy, took the memories of their first times together and combined it with his own.

Harry barely remembered his orgasm – it mixed with other feelings so the physical pleasure blended seamlessly with an emotional climax that left him physically shaking. He realised that Charlie had come too, come inside him, and he trembled hard again.

"Shh," Charlie said softly, kissing down Harry's neck as their bodies finally disconnected. "I've got you. I've got you."

His strong arms wrapped around Harry's chest and pulled him back. Harry gripped onto Charlie's forearms and kissed the back of his hand.

"I'm shaking."

"I know. It's okay."

Charlie pulled the duvet up to cover them both and settled back, content to hold Harry like this all night if he had to.

"Too much?" Charlie asked.

"No." Harry leaned back and placed a soft, soft kiss on the corner of Charlie's mouth. "Perfect."


	70. seventy

_February 2005_

_Harry gripped as hard as he could to the back of Charlie's neck with one hand and his ass with the other, hoping to keep him close as the other man fucked him hard and fast. They kissed too, the action hard and demanding rather than soft and sweet, and Harry dug his fingers in tight to the fleshy, muscled bum-cheek, hoping to add an edge of pain._

_Charlie growled when he came, baring his incisors and holding himself at his deepest point inside Harry's body. Harry had already come twice. He was still riding those good feelings when Charlie started to pull away. _

_Moments later he was alone in the bed as Charlie stood and cast cleaning charms over himself, then reached for his jeans. _

_"Why don't you ever stay?" Harry said. He'd been drinking. It was the only reason why he had the guts to ask._

_Charlie gave him a long, even stare. "Because you never ask me to."_

_xXx_

_"Me and Charlie are…"_

_Hermione's eyes widened and she pushed the biscuit tin towards him across her desk. _

_"You and Charlie are what?" she asked. _

_Harry took a biscuit and slumped back in his chair while he nibbled at it. Ron was away on a job somewhere in France, so Harry had been seeing a lot more of the inside of Hermione's office. She knew there was something going on but was far too tactful to press. That was, until Harry started to confess._

_"Fucking," Harry admitted. _

_"Oh."_

_One of the things that Hermione was exceptionally good at was knowing when to be quiet. Harry and Ron had decided that it was a woman thing. It was like smoking them out – Hermione's patience was endless and Harry's wasn't, so he inevitably said more than he intended to. _

_"For months now," Harry said._

_"But you haven't… rekindled your romance?"_

_"No."_

_"I see."_

_Hermione helped herself to a biscuit and raised an eyebrow._

_"I asked him last night why he never stays over and he said it's because I never ask him to. What the fuck does that mean?"_

_"I should imagine," Hermione said reasonably, "that he means you never ask him to stay over, so he doesn't feel comfortable doing so. Or assuming that it's okay."_

_"Of course I want him to stay over!"_

_"Have you told him that?"_

_"Well, no…" Harry muttered._

_"There you go, then," Hermione said smugly. "Why don't you ask him to stay for the weekend?"_

_"Because…" Harry said and picked at a hole in the knee of his trousers. "Because… oh, I don't know. It's complicated."_

_"Is it really? You want it to happen, he wants you to ask… why don't you swallow your pride and ask him?"_

_Harry folded his arms and sulked. _


End file.
